MRS.  THOMPSON 


BOOKS  BY  THE  8 A  ME  AUTHOR 

NOVELS. 

FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE 
GLAMOUR 

THE  MIRROR  AND  THE  LAMP 
THE  DEVIL'S  GARDEN 
GENERAL  MALLOCK'S  SHADOW- 
IN    COTTON    WOOL 
MRS.  THOMPSON 
THE  REST  CURE 
SEYMOUR  CHARLTON 
HILL  RISE 

THE  GUARDED  FLAME 
VIVIEN 

THE  RAGGED  MESSENGER 
THE  COUNTESS  OF  MAYBURY 
A  LITTLE  MORE 

SHORT  STORIES. 
LIFE  CAN  NEVER  BE  THE  SAME 
ODD   LENGTHS 
FABULOUS    FANCIES 


MRS.  THOMPSON 


A    NOVEL 


BY 

W.  B.  MAXWELL 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  GUARDED  FLAME/ 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 
1922 


Copyright,  1911,  by 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


PRINTED    IN    U.    S.    A. 


"Give  her  of  the  fruit  of  her  hands;  and  let 
her  own  works  praise  her  in  the  gates  " 

—PROVERBS. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 


IT  was  early-closing  day  in  the  town  of  Mallingbridge ; 
and  the  Thompson's,  "established  1813,"  had  begun  to 
hide  its  wares  from  the  sunlight  of  High  Street.  Outside 
its  windows  the  iron  shutters  were  rolling  down;  inside 
its  doors  male  and  female  assistants,  eager  for  the  weekly 
half-holiday,  were  despatching  the  last  dilatory  customers, 
packing  their  shelves,  spreading  their  dust-sheets,  and  gen- 
erally tidying  up  with  anxious  speed. 

Mrs.  Thompson,  the  sole  proprietress,  emerging  from 
internal  offices  and  passing  through  her  prosperous  realm, 
cast  an  attentive  eye  hither  and  thither;  and,  wherever  she 
glanced,  saw  all  things  right,  and  nothing  wrong.  System, 
method,  practised  control  visible  in  each  department. 
Carpets,  Bedding,  Curtains,  House  Furnishings,  all  as  they 
should  be  —  no  disturbing  note,  no  hint  of  a  dangerous  ele- 
ment in  the  well-ordered  working  scheme  of  Thompson's. 

Managerial  Mr.  Mears,  a  big  elderly  man,  took  his  hands 
from  beneath  the  skirts  of  his  frock-coat ;  smiled  and  bowed ; 
and  spoke  to  the  proprietress  confidentially  on  one  or  two 
important  matters. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Mears.  "  About  Household 
Crockery  —  is  it  to  be  a  promotion,  or  do  you  still  think  of 
getting  someone  in  ?  Of  course  there's  a  lot  of  talk  —  must 
be  while  the  appointment  remains  open.  But  you  haven't 
made  up  your  mind  yet,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  arranging  her  reticule, 

I 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

and   not   looking  at   Mr.    Mears.     "  I   shall   appoint   Mr. 
Marsden." 

"  Young  Marsden !     Never  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  firmly. 

"  You  surprise  me.     I  admit  it." 

"You  don't  think,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  "that  he  is 
old  enough  for  the  responsibility.  But,  Mr.  Mears,  he  has 
brains  and  he  likes  work.  Tell  the  others  that  the  ap- 
pointment is  made." 

And  big  Mr.  Mears  did  then  what  everyone  in  Thomp- 
son's always  did  —  that  is  to  say,  he  immediately  obeyed 
orders;  and  before  the  last  shutter  was  down,  the  news  had 
flashed  all  through  the  restricted  space  of  the  old-fashioned 
shop. 

"  Dicky  Marsden !  Oh,  drop  me  off  a  roof  .  .  . 
Marsden  up  again!  Well,  I'm  bust!"  Thompson's 
young  gentlemen  murmuring  their  comments,  expressed 
astonishment,  and  a  certain  amount  of  envy.  "  Marsden 
over  all  our  heads !  This  is  a  rum  go,  if  you  like." 

"Fancy!  What  next!  Would  you  believe  it?" 
Thompson's  young  ladies,  after  being  breathless,  became 
shrill.  "  Why,  on'y  six  months  ago  he  was  Number  Three 
in  the  Carpets." 

"  He'll  be  prouder  than  ever." 

"  I  shan't  dare  so  much  as  speak  to  him." 

"  He  always  treated  one  as  dirt  under  his  feet,"  said  a 
dark-haired,  anaemic  young  lady.  "And  now!" 

"  With  the  increased  screw,"  said  a  pert,  blond  young 
lady,  "  he'll  be  able  to  buy  more  smart  clothes,  and  he'll 
look  more  fetching  than  ever.  Yes,  and  you'll  all  be  more 
in  love  with  him  than  you  are  a'ready." 

"  Speak  for  yourself." 

"  Well,  say  I'm  as  bad  as  you.  We're  all  a  lot  of  fools 
together," 

2 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Of  course  there  must  be  talk.  The  Napoleonic  rise  of 
this  fortunate  shopman  had  been  sufficiently  rapid  to  stir 
the  whole  of  his  little  shop-world.  Starting  thus,  to  what 
heights  might  he  not  attain  in  Thompson's?  There  would 
be  talk  and  more  talk. 

But  not  within  the  hearing  of  Mr.  Mears. 

"  Jabber,  jabber,"  said  Mr.  Mears  with  unusual  severity. 
"  Less  of  it.  You're  like  so  many  cackling  hens  in  some 
back  yard  —  instead  of  ladies  who  know  how  to  behave 
themselves  in  a  high-class  emporium." 

Evidently  Mr.  Mears  was  not  pleased  with  the  appoint- 
ment. He  stamped  off;  and  the  girls  observed  the  char- 
acteristic swish  of  the  coat  tails,  the  manner  in  which 
he  puffed  out  his  chest,  and  the  faint  flush  upon  his  bearded 
face. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Thompson  had  passed  onward  and  up- 
ward, through  many  departments,  to  the  door  of  communi- 
cation on  the  first  floor  that  led  from  her  public  shop  to  her 
private  house. 

Outwardly  it  was  quite  an  old-fashioned  shop,  still  en- 
cased with  the  red-brick  fabric  of  Georgian  days;  but  in- 
wardly its  structure  had  been  almost  entirely  modernised. 
The  bird-cage  art  of  steel-girdering  had  swept  away  division- 
walls,  opened  out  the  department  to  the  widest  possible  ex- 
tent and  given  an  unimpeded  run  of  floor  area  where  once 
the  goods  used  to  be  stored  in  rooms  the  size  of  pigeon- 
holes. The  best  shop-architects  had  gutted  the  place,  and, 
so  far  as  they  were  permitted,  had  "  brought  it  up  to  date  " ; 
but  in  all  recent  improvements  the  style  of  substantial,  re- 
spectable grandeur  was  preserved.  The  new  mahogany 
staircases  were  of  a  Georgian  pattern;  there  were  no  fan- 
tastic white  panellings,  no  coloured  mosaics,  no  etageres  of 
artificial  flowers.  Really  the  vast  looking-glasses  were  the 
only  decoration  that  one  could  condemn  as  altogether  be- 

3 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

longing  to  the  vulgar  new  school.  The  mirrors  were 
perhaps  overdone. 

So,  as  Mrs.  Thompson  ascended  the  short  flight  of  stairs 
out  of  Bedding,  Etc.,  a  pleasant,  middle-aged  woman  in 
stately  black  with  pendent  chatelaine,  climbed  opposing  steps 
to  meet  her  face  to  face  on  the  landing.  As  she  moved  on 
she  was  moving  in  many  glasses,  so  that  nearly  all  the  as- 
sistants could  see  her  or  her  reflected  image:  a  procession 
of  Mrs.  Thompsons  advancing  from  Woollens  and  Yarns, 
another  converging  column  of  Mrs.  Thompsons  from 
Cretonnes  and  Chintzes,  reinforcements  coming  forward  in 
the  big  glass  opposite  the  entrance  of  Household  Linen; 
while  the  young  men  behind  the  Blankets  counter  raised 
their  eyes  to  watch  the  real  Mrs.  Thompson  march  by 
with  a  company  of  false  Mrs.  Thompsons  stretching  in 
perfect  line  from  the  right  —  innumerable  Mrs.  Thomp- 
sons shown  by  the  glasses;  some  looking  bigger,  some 
looking  slighter;  but  all  the  glasses  showing  a  large- 
bosomed,  broad-hipped  woman  of  forty-five,  with  florid 
colouring  and  robust  deportment;  a  valiant  solid  crea- 
ture seeming,  as  indeed  she  was,  well  able  to  carry 
the  burden  of  the  whole  shop  on  her  firm  shoul- 
ders. * 

Then  the  glasses  were  empty  again:  Mrs.  Thompson  had 
disappeared  through  the  door  of  communication. 

On  this  side  of  the  door  lay  all  her  working  life,  the 
struggle,  the  fight,  the  courageous  plans,  and  the  unflagging 
labours;  on  the  other  side  of  the  door  lay  the  object  for 
which  she  had  toiled,  the  end  and  aim  of  every  brave  en- 
deavour. 


"Enid,   my  darling,   are  you   there?     .     .     .     Yates,   is 
Miss  Enid  in  ?  " 

4 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Yes,  ma'am,  Miss  Enid  has  lunched,  and  is  upstairs  — 
dressing  for  the  drive." 

Yates,  the  old  servant,  maid,  housekeeper,  and  faithful 
friend,  came  bustling  and  smiling  to  the  welcome  sounds  of 
her  employer's  kind  voice. 

Mrs.  Thompson  sat  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  vacated 
dining-room,  talking  to  Yates  and  hearing  the  domestic 
news. 

The  headache  of  Miss  Enid,  Yates  reported,  was  much 
better;  but  she  had  not  been  out  this  morning.  She  seemed 
to  be  rather  languid,  and,  as  Yates  guessed,  perhaps  felt  a 
little  dull  and  moped  after  the  gaieties  and  excitements  of 
the  country-house  visit  from  which  she  had  just  returned. 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  cheerfully,  "  our  drive 
will  do  her  good.  And  now  that  the  summer  is  coming  on, 
she  shall  not  want  for  occupation  and  amusement." 

All  through  the  snug  little  box  of  a  house,  filched  out 
of  the  block  of  shop  premises,  there  was  evidence  of  the 
occupations  and  amusements  of  Miss  Enid.  Bookcases  with 
choicely  bound  volumes  of  romance  and  poetry,  elegant 
writing-desks,  various  musical  instruments,  materials  for 
painting  in  oil  or  water  colour,  new  inventions  for  the 
practice  of  miniature  sculpture,  the  most  costly  photographic 
cameras,  tennis  rackets,  hockey  sticks,  and  other  implements 
of  sport  and  pastime  —  on  this  floor  as  on  the  upper  floors, 
in  dining-room,  drawing-room,  boudoir,  as  well  as  bedroom 
and  dressing-room,  were  things  that  should  provide  a  young 
lady  with  occupation  and  amusement. 

The  rooms  were  comfortably  furnished  and  brightly 
ornamented,  and  all  had  a  homelike  soothing  aspect  to  their 
busy  owner.  To  other  people  they  might  seem  lacking  in 
the  studious  taste  by  which  the  rich  and  idle  can  make  of 
each  apartment  a  harmonious  picture.  Here  money  had 
been  spent  profusely  but  hurriedly,  at  odd  times  and  not 

5 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

all  together:  whatever  at  the  moment  had  appeared  to  be 
desirable  or  necessary  had  been  at  once  procured.  So  that 
comfort  and  luxury  rather  jostled  each  other;  the  Sheraton 
cabinets  which  were  so  charming  to  look  at  were  apt  to 
get  hidden  by  the  leather  armchairs  which  were  so  soothing 
to  have  a  nap  in ;  and  the  Chelsea  china  in  the  glass-fronted 
corner  cupboard  completely  lost  itself  behind  the  Japanese 
screen  that  guarded  against  draughts  from  the  old  sashed 
window. 

**  Enid,  may  I  come  in?"  Mrs.  Thompson  tapped  softly 
at  the  door  of  her  daughter's  dressing-room. 

"  Mother  dear,  is  that  you  ?  "  The  door  was  opened, 
and  the  two  women  embraced  affectionately. 

Miss  Thompson,  in  her  fawn-coloured  coat  and  skirt, 
feathered  hat  and  spotted  veil,  was  a  tall,  slim,  graceful 
figure,  ready  now  to  adorn  the  hired  landau  from  Mr. 
Young's  livery  stables.  Her  hair  was  dark  and  her  com- 
plexion naturally  pallid;  with  a  long  straight  nose  in  a 
narrow  face,  she  resembled  her  dead  father,  but  what  was 
sheep-like  and  stupid  in  him  was  rather  pretty  in  the  girl; 
—  altogether,  a  decent-looking,  fairly  attractive  young 
woman  of  twenty-two,  but  not  likely  to  obtain  from  the 
world  at  large  the  gaze  of  admiring  satisfaction  with  which 
an  adoring  mother  regarded  her. 

"  The  carriage  isn't  there  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson, 
"  and  I  promise  not  to  keep  you  waiting.  I'll  change  my 
dress  in  a  flash  of  lightning." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  wearing  this  afternoon  ?  " 

Mrs.  Thompson  proposed  to  put  on  her  new  mauve  gown 
and  the  hat  with  the  lilac  blossoms;  but  her  daughter  made 
alternative  suggestions. 

In  the  shop  Mrs.  Thompson  .carried  a  perpetual  black; 
outside  the  shop  she  was  perhaps  unduly  fond  of  vivid  tints, 
and  it  was  Enid's  custom  to  check  this  rainbow  tendency. 

6 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  "it  shall  be  the 
brown  again;  "  and  she  laughed  good-humouredly.  "  I  bow 
to  your  judgment,  my  dear,  if  I  don't  endorse  its  correct- 
ness." 

"  You  look  sweet  in  the  brown,  mother." 

"  Do  I  ?  .  .  .  But  remember  what  Miss  Macdonald 
says.  With  my  high  complexion,  I  need  colour." 

Yates  soon  braced  and  laced  her  mistress  into  the  sober 
brown  cloth  and  velvet  that  Enid  considered  suitable  for 
the  occasion;  a  parlourmaid  with  light  rugs  went  forward 
to  the  carriage;  and  mother  and  daughter  came  down  the 
steep  and  narrow  flight  of  stairs  to  their  outer  door. 

There  was  no  ground  floor  to  the  dwelling-house  —  or 
rather  the  ground  floor  formed  an  integral  part  of  the  shop. 
The  street  door  stood  in  St.  Saviour's  Court  —  the  paved 
footway  that  leads  from  High  Street  to  the  churchyard, — 
sandwiched  with  its  staircase  between  the  two  side  windows 
that  contained  basket  chairs  and  garden  requisites.  .  The 
court  was  sufficiently  wide  and  sufficiently  pleasant:  a 
quiet,  dignified  passage  of  entry,  with  the  peaceful  calm  of 
the  old  church  walls  at  one  end,  and  the  stir  and  bustle  of 
the  brilliant  High  Street  at  the  other  end. 

Enid  and  her  mamma,  following  the  neat  and  mincing 
parlourmaid,  made  a  stately  procession  to  the  main  thorough- 
fare, where  the  really  handsome  equipage  provided  by  Mr. 
Young  was  awaiting  their  pleasure. 

The  liveried  coachman  touched  his  hat,  idle  loungers 
touched  their  caps,  prosperous  citizens  uncovered  and  bowed. 

"  There  goes  Mrs.  Thompson."  People  ran  to  upper 
windows  to  see  Mrs.  Thompson  start  for  her  Thursday 
drive. 

"  There  she  goes." 

"Who?" 

"  Mrs.  Thompson." 

7 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Oh!" 

The  genial  May  sunshine  flashed  gaily,  lighting  up  the 
whole  street,  making  both  ladies  blink  their  eyes  as  the  car- 
riage rolled  away. 

"  What  a  crowd  there  is  outside  Bence's,"  said  Miss  Enid. 
"  How  mean  it  is  of  him  not  to  close !  " 

The  first  shop  they  passed  was  Bence's  drapery  stores, 
and  Mrs.  Thompson  glanced  carelessly  at  the  thronged 
pavement  in  front  of  these  improperly  open  windows. 

"  Mr.  Bence's  motto,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  "  is  cheap 
and  nasty,"  and  she  laughed  with  an  amused  scorn  for  so 
mean  a  trade  rival.  "  His  method  of  doing  business  is  like 
the  trumpery  he  offers  to  the  public  I  have  a  rather  im- 
pudent letter  from  him  in  my  pocket  now,  and  I  want — " 

But  then  Mrs.  Thompson's  strong  eyebrows  contracted, 
and  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  looked  away  from 
Bence's.  She  had  just  noticed  two  of  her  own  shop-girls 
going  into  Bence's  to  buy  his  trumpery.  Something  dis- 
tinctly irritating  in  the  thought  that  these  feather-headed 
girls  regularly  carried  half  their  wages  across  the  road  to 
Bence's ! 

Throughout  the  length  of  High  Street  there  were  too 
many  of  such  signs  of  the  vulgar  times:  the  ever-changing 
trade,  old  shops  giving  place  to  new  ones  —  an  American 
boot-shop,  a  branch  of  the  famous  cash  tobacconists,  the 
nasty  cheap  restaurant  opened  by  the  great  London  caterers, 
Parisian  jewellery  absorbing  one  window  of  the  historic 
clocksmiths, —  everywhere  indications  of  that  love  of  taw- 
driness  and  glitter  which  slowly  atrophies  the  sense  of  solid 
worth,  of  genuineness  and  durability. 

Yet  everywhere,  also,  signs  of  the  old  life  of  the  town 
still  vigorous  —  aldermen  and  councillors  taking  the  air ; 
Mr.  Wiseman,  the  wealthy  corn-merchant;  Mr.  Dempsey, 
the  auctioneer-mayor;  Mr.  Young,  owner  of  a  hundred 

8 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

horses  besides  this  pair  of  gallant  greys  that  were  drawing 
Mrs.  Thompson. 

Everyone  of  the  solid  old  townsfolk  knew  her;  all  that 
was  respectably  permanent  bowed  and  smiled  at  her.  The 
drive  was  like  a  royal  progress  when  they  swept  through  the 
market  square,  past  the  ancient  town  hall  now  a  museum, 
under  the  shadows  thrown  by  the  new  municipal  buildings, 
and  the  other  and  bigger  church  of  Holy  Trinity,  out  be- 
neath the  noble  gatehouse,  and  up  into  the  sunlit  slope  of 
Hill  Street.  Hats  off  on  either  side,  broad  masculine  faces 
smiling  in  the  sunlight.  All  the  best  of  the  town  knew 
her  and  was  proud  of  her. 

Her  story  was  of  the  simplest,  and  all  knew  it.  Mr. 
Thompson  had  been  the  last  and  most  feeble  representative 
of  a  powerful  dynasty  of  shop-keepers;  at  his  death  it  be- 
came at  once  apparent  that  the  grand  old  ^hop  was  nothing 
but  an  effete,  played  out,  and  utterly  exhausted  possession; 
his  widow  was  left  practically  penniless,  with  an  insolvent 
business  to  wind  up,  and  an  orphaned  little  girl  to  support 
and  rear.  And  young  Mrs.  Thompson  was  ignorant  of  all 
business  matters,  knew  nothing  more  of  shops  than  can  be 
learned  by  any  shop-customer.  Nevertheless,  with  indomit- 
able energy,  she  threw  herself  into  business  life.  She  did  not 
shut  up  Thompson's;  she  kept  it  going.  In  two  years  it 
was  again  a  paying  concern;  in  a  few  more  years  it  was  a 
stronger  and  more  flourishing  enterprise  than  it  had  ever 
been  since  its  establishment  in  1813;  now  it  was  immensely 
prosperous  and  a  credit  to  the  town. 

They  all  knew  how  she  had  toiled  until  the  success  came, 
how  generously  she  had  used  the  money  that  her  own  force 
and  courage  earned  —  a  large-minded,  open-handed,  self- 
reliant  worker,  combining  a  woman's  endurance  with  a  man's 
strength, —  and  only  one  weakness :  the  pampering  devotion 
to  her  girl.  She  was  making  her  daughter  too  much  of  a 

2 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

fine  lady;  she  had  extravagantly  worshipped  this  idol;  she 
had  spoiled  the  long-nosed  Enid.  The  town  knew  all  about 
that. 

Bowing  to  right  and  to  left,  Mrs.  Thompson  drove  up 
Hill  Street,  and  then  stopped  the  carriage  outside  the  of- 
fices of  Mr.  Prentice,  solicitor  and  commissioner  of  oaths. 

"  Only  two  or  three  words  with  him,  Eflid.  I  promise 
not  to  be  more  than  five  minutes." 

Mr.  Prentice  came  to  the  carriage  door;  and  was  asked 
to  read  the  letter  from  Mr.  Bence  the  fancy  draper. 

"  Don't  you  think  it's  rather  impertinent?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Prentice.  "  I  wouldn't 
answer  it.  Throw  it  into  the  waste-paper  basket." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shall  answer  it  ...  I  can't  allow  Mr. 
Bence  to  suppose  that  I  should  ever  be  afraid  of  him." 

"Afraid  of  him!"  And  Mr.  Prentice  laughed  contemp- 
tuously. tf  You  afraid  of  such  a  little  bounder  .  .  . 
Look  here.  Shall  I  go  round  and  kick  the  brute  ?  " 

Mrs.  Thompson  laughed,  too.  "  No,  no,"  she  said,  "  that 
would  scarcely  be  professional." 

"  I'll  do  it  after  office  hours  —  in  my  private  capacity  — 
and  of  course  without  entering  it  to  your  account." 

Mr.  Prentice  was  a  jolly  red-faced  man  of  fifty,  with 
healthy  clean-shaven  cheeks,  and  small  grey  whiskers  of  a 
sporting  cut.  Altogether  the  most  eminent  solicitor  in 
Mallingbridge,  he  had  clients  among  all  the  country  gentle- 
folk of  the  neighbourhood ;  he  rode  to  hounds  still,  and  kept 
his  horses  at  Young's  stables;  he  stood  high  in  the  Masonic 
craft  and  could  sing  an  excellent  comic  song.  He  was  at 
once  Mrs.  Thompson's  trusted  legal  adviser,  her  staunch 
friend,  and,  as  he  himself  declared,  her  admiring  slave. 

"  One  more  word,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson.  "  It  is  time 
that  I  gave  another  dinner  at  the  Dolphin.  There  are  two 
new  men  on  the  Council  —  and  there  will  be  more  new  men 

10 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

next  November.  I  shall  want  your  help  to  act  as  deputy 
host  for  me.  Will  you  think  it  out  —  draw  up  a  list  of 
guests  —  and  arrange  everything?" 

"  It  is  for  you  to  command,  and  for  me  to  obey,"  said 
genial  Mr.  Prentice.  "  But,  upon  my  word,  I  don't  know 
why  you  should  go  on  feasting  people  in  this  way." 

"  I  like  to  stand  well  with  the  town." 

"  And  so  you  do.  So  you  would,  if  you  never  gave  them 
another  glass  of  champagne  ...  I  think  your  mamma 
is  far  too  generous." 

But  Miss  Enid,  who  seemed  unutterably  bored,  was  star- 
ing out  of  the  carriage  in  the  other  direction.  She  had  not 
been  listening  to  Mr.  Prentice,  and  she  did  not  hear  him 
when  he  addressed  her  directly. 

"  Then  good-bye.  Drive  on,  coachman  .  .  .  There," 
and  Mrs.  Thompson  turned  gaily  to  her  daughter.  "  That's 
more  than  enough  business  for  Thursday  afternoon,  isn't  it, 
Enid?" 

They  drove  along  the  London  road,  through  the  pretty 
village  of  Haggart's  Cross,  as  far  as  the  chalk  cliffs  beneath 
the  broad  downs;  and  then,  descending  again,  through 
beech  woods  and  fir  plantations  to  the  valley  where  the 
river  Mailing  runs  and  twists  beside  the  railway  line  all 
the  way  home  to  the  town. 

The  world  was  fresh  and  bright,  with  the  May  wind 
blowing  softly  and  the  May  flowers  budding  sweetly. 
Cattle  in  the  green  fields,  birds  in  the  blue  sky,  pinafored 
children  chanting  a  lesson  behind  the  latticed  panes  of  their 
schoolhouse,  primroses  peeping  from  grassy  banks,  and,  far 
and  near,  the  white  hawthorn  shedding  its  perfume,  giving 
its  fragrant  message  of  spring,  of  hope,  of  life  —  plenty  of 
things  to  look  at  with  pleasure,  plenty  of  things  to  talk 
about,  though  one  might  often  have  seen  them  before. 
2  II 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

But  Enid  was  somehow  languid,  listless,  even  lumpish,  and 
Mrs.  Thompson  did  nearly  all  the  looking  and  talking. 

"  I  always  think  that  is  such  an  imposing  place.  The 
entrance  seems  to  warn  one  off  —  to  tell  one  not  to  for- 
get what  a  tremendous  swell  the  owner  is." 

They  were  passing  the  lodge-gates  of  a  great  nobleman's 
seat,  and  one  had  a  rapid  impression  of  much  magnificence. 
Stone  piers,  sculptured  urns,  floreated  iron,  massive  chains; 
and  behind  the  forbidding  barrier  a  vista  of  swept  gravel 
and  mown  grass,  with  solemn  conifers  proudly  ranked,  and 
standard  rhododendrons  just  beginning  pompously  to  bloom 
—  no  glimpse  of  the  mansion  itself,  but  an  intuitive  percep- 
tion of  something  vast,  remote,  unattainable. 

Enid  looked  through  the  bars  at  my  lord's  gravel  drive 
attentively,  almost  wistfully,  perhaps  thinking  of  the  few 
and  august  people  to  whom  these  splendours  would  be  fa- 
miliar —  of  the  lucky  people  who  are  brought  up  in  palaces 
instead  of  in  shops. 

"  It  is  a  meet  of  hounds."  Miss  Enid  broke  a  long 
silence  to  give  her  mother  this  information.  "  And  when 
I  was  staying  at  Colonel  Salter's,  I  met  a  man  who  had 
once  been  to  a  ball  there." 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  with  cheerful  brisk- 
ness, "  now  you  mention  hunting,  that  reminds  me.  We 
must  get  you  on  horseback  again.  .  .  .  You  do  like  your 
riding,  don't  you?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Enid  listlessly. 

"  Mr.  Young  said  you  were  making  such  good  progress. 
And,"  added  Mrs.  Thompson  gently,  "  it  is  a  pity  to  take 
up  things  and  drop  them.  It  is  just  wasted  effort  —  if  one 
stops  before  reaching  the  goal." 

The  road,  turning  and  crossing  the  railway,  gave  them 
a  well-known  view  of  Mallingbridge  —  the  town  quite  at 
its  best,  four  miles  away  in  the  middle  of  the  broad  plain, 

12 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

smoke  and  haze  hanging  over  ft,  but  with  tempered  sunlight 
glistening  on  countless  roofs,  and  the  square  tower  of  St. 
Saviour's  and  the  tall  spire  of  Holy  Trinity  rising  proudly 
above  the  mass  of  lesser  buildings.  There,  stretched  at  her 
feet,  was  Mrs.  Thompson's  world,  the  world  that  she  had 
conquered. 

In  another  mile  they  passed  a  residence  that  to  her  mind 
formed  a  pleasant  contrast  with  the  oppressive  splendour 
of  the  nobleman's  domain.  Here  there  were  white  gates 
between  mellow  brick  walls,  easy  peeps  into  a  terraced 
garden,  stables  and  barns  as  at  a  farm,  pigeons  settling  on 
some  thatch,  friendly  English  trees  guarding  but  not  hiding 
a  dear  old  English  country  house. 

"  Look,  Enid,"  and  Mrs.  Thompson  pointed  to  the  broad 
eaves,  the  white  windows,  and  the  solid  chimney  stacks,  as 
they  showed  here  and  there  between  the  branches  of  oak 
and  maple.  "  There.  That's  a  place  I  fell  in  love  with 
the  first  time  I  saw  it,  ...  I  would  like  a  house  just 
like  that  —  for  you  and  me  to  live  in  when  I  am  able  to 
give  up  my  work.  .  .  ." 

"What  were  you  saying,  mother?"  Enid,  not  listening 
or  absorbed  by  her  own  thoughts,  had  not  heard. 

"  I  was  only  saying,  that's  the  sort  of  house  I  should  like 
for  us  two  —  when  I  retire." 

"  Mother,  I  sometimes  wish  that  you  had  retired  years 
ago." 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  meekly,  "  retiring 
is  all  very  well  —  but  you  and  I  wouldn't  be  sitting  here 
driving  so  comfortably  if  I  had  been  afraid  of  my  work  and 
in  a  hurry  to  get  done  with  it." 


II 

IN  her  marriage  she  had  sacrificed  all  the  natural  hopes 
and  inclinations  of  a  healthy  young  woman.  She  and  her 
widowed  mother  were  very  poor,  quite  alone  in  the  world; 
and  it  seemed  a  proper  and  a  wise  thing  to  marry  Mr. 
Thompson  for  his  money.  No  one  could  guess  that  the 
money  was  already  a  phantom  and  no  longer  a  fact.  The 
man  was  middle-aged,  feeble  of  body  and  mind,  a  stupid  and 
a  selfish  person;  but  it  seemed  that  he  would  assure  the 
future  of  his  wife  and  provide  a  comfortable  home  for  his 
mother-in-law. 

Then  after  five  years  the  man  and  his  money  were  gone 
forever;  the  mother  for  whom  the  sacrifice  had  been  made 
was  herself  dead ;  only  the  wife  and  her  little  child  remained. 
Five  years  pf  dull  submission  to  an  unloved  husband;  five 
years  spent  in  the  nursing  of  two  invalids,  with  the  vapid 
meaningless  monotony  of  wasted  days  broken  sharply  by  the 
pains  of  child-birth,  the  agonized  cares  of  early  motherhood, 
and  the  shock  of  death ;  —  and  at  the  end  of  the  years,  a 
sudden  call  for  limitless  courage  and  almost  impossible 
energy. 

Quiet  unobtrusive  Mrs.  Thompson  answered  the  call 
fully.  Deep-seated  fighting  instincts  arose  in  her;  unsus- 
pected powers  were  put  forth  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  the 
occasion;  the  hero-spirit  that  lies  buried  in  many  natures 
sprang  nobly  upward. 

At  first  she  possessed  only  one  commercial  asset,  the  repu- 
tation of  Thompson's.  For  so  many  years  Thompson's  had 
been  known  as  a  good  shop  that  here  was  a  legend  which 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

might  counterbalance  debts,  exhausted  credit,  antiquated 
stock,  and  incompetent  staff. 

The  town  and  the  country  during  generations  had  come 
to  Thompson's  for  good  things  —  not  cheap  things,  but  the 
things  that  last:  dress  fabrics  that  stand  up  by  themselves, 
chairs  and  tables  that  you  can  leave  intact  to  your  grand- 
children, carpets  that  unborn  men  will  be  beating  when  you 
yourself  are  dust. 

Mrs.  Thompson,  in  her  widow's  weeds,  went  round  the 
big  supply  houses,  telling  the  great  trade  chieftains  that  the 
legend  was  still  alive,  though  the  man  who  already  owed 
them  so  much  money  was  dead;  saying  in  effect  to  all  the 
people  who  held  her  fate  in  their  hands,  "  Don't  let  old 
Thompson's  go  down.  Don't  smash  me.  Help  me.  Give 
me  time  to  secure  your  twenty  shillings  in  the  pound,  in- 
stead of  the  meagre  seven  and  sixpence  which  you  can  get 
now." 

The  wholesale  trade  helped  her.  Little  by  little  all  the 
world  came  to  her  aid.  Mr.  Prentice  the  solicitor  was  a 
skilful  ally.  As  soon  as  it  could  be  seen  locally  that  she 
was  keeping  her  head  above  water,  friends  on  the  bank  began 
to  beckon  to  her.  Rich  aldermen,  advised  that  there  was 
now  small  risk,  lent  her  money;  and  these  loans  rendered 
her  independent  of  Trade  assistance.  Soon  she  could  get 
whatever  sums  she  required  for  the  restoration  and  ex- 
pansion of  the  business. 

In  all  her  dealings  she  won  respect.  The  confidence  that 
she  inspired  was  her  true  commercial  asset,  her  capital,  her 
good-will,  her  everything;  and  it  was  always  growing. 
"  Very  remarkable,"  said  travellers,  reporting  at  head- 
quarters, "  how  that  Mrs.  Thompson  has  pulled  the  fat  out 
of  the  fire  at  Mallingbridge.  What  she  wants  now  is  some 
sound  business  man  for  partner  —  and  there's  no  knowing 
what  she  mightn't  do." 

15 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Then  some  other  and  more  philosophic  traveller,  im- 
pressed by  the  swift  revivification  of  Thompson's,  said  en- 
thusiastically, "  The  best  business  head  in  this  town  is  on  a 
woman's  shoulders."  The  saying  was  quoted,  misquoted, 
echoed  and  garbled,  until  it  concreted  itself  into  an  easy 
popular  formula  which  the  whole  town  used  freely.  "  The 
best  man  of  business  in  Mallingbridge  is  a  woman."  Every- 
one knew  who  that  woman  was.  Mrs.  Thompson.  And 
the  town,  speaking  on  important  occasions  through  the  mouth 
of  its  mayor,  aldermen,  and  councillors,  for  the  first  time 
said  that  it  was  proud  of  her. 

And  then  the  town  began  to  ask  her  hand  in  wedlock. 

In  these  days,  at  the  dawn  of  her  success,  Mrs.  Thompson 
was  not  without  obvious  personal  attraction.  She  was  fair 
and  plump,  with  light  wavy  hair,  kind  grey  eyes  beneath 
well-marked  eyebrows,  and  good  colour  warmly  brightening 
a  clean  white  skin ;  —  she  "  looked  nice  "  in  her  widow's 
black,  smiling  at  a  hard  world  and  so  bravely  tackling  her 
life  problem.  Quite  a  large  number  of  well-to-do  citizens 
were  smilingly  rejected  by  the  buxom  widow.  Pretenders 
were  slow  to  believe  in  the  finality  of  her  refusals;  as  the 
success  became  more  patent,  they  tried  their  luck  again,  and 
again,  but  always  with  the  same  emptiness  of  result.  In- 
deed it  was  a  town  joke,  as  well  as  an  unquestionable  fact, 
that  old  Chambers  the  wine-merchant  regularly  proposed 
three  times  a  year  to  nice-looking  Mrs.  Thompson. 

She  wanted  no  second  husband.  The  fight  and  the  child 
were  enough  for  her.  Those  deep  and  unsapped  springs  of 
love  that  might  have  gushed  forth  to  make  a  fountain  stream 
of  happiness  for  Alderman  Brown  or  Councillor  Jones  flowed 
calmly  and  steadfastly  now  in  a  concentrated  channel  of 
motherly  affection.  To  work  for  the  child,  to  love  and  tend 
the  child  —  that  was  henceforth  her  destiny.  And  she  felt 
strong  enough  to  watch  in  her  own  face  the  blurring  de- 

16 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

structive  print  of  time,  if  she  might  watch  in  her  girl's  face 
time's  unfolding  glories. 

For  the  cruel  years  took  from  her  irrevocably  those 
physical  seductions  of  neatly  rounded  form  and  smooth  pink- 
ness  and  whiteness.  The  colour  that  had  been  sufficient  be- 
came too  much,  plumpness  changed  to  stoutness  —  once,  for 
a  year,  she  was  fat.  But  she  tackled  this  trouble  too,  bravely 
and  unflinchingly, —  went  to  London  for  Swedish  exercises; 
banted;  brought  herself  down,  down,  down,  until  Dr. 
Eldridge  told  her  she  must  stop,  or  she  would  kill  herself. 
After  that  she  settled  to  a  steady  solidness,  a  well-main- 
tained amplitude  of  contour;  and  the  years  seemed  to  leave 
her  untouched  as  the  wide-breasted,  rotund-hipped,  stalwart 
Mrs.  Thompson  of  a  decade  —  red-cheeked,  bright-eyed, 
gallant  and  strong. 

Yet  still  she  had  suitors.  The  physical  charm  was  gone, 
but  other  charm  was  present  —  that  blending  of  kindness 
and  power  which  wins  men's  hearts,  if  it  does  not  stir  their 
pulses,  gave  her  a  dominating  personality,  and  made  the 
circle  of  her  influence  exactly  as  large  as  the  circle  of  her 
acquaintance.  People  at  the  circumference  of  the  circle 
seemed  to  be  surely  drawn,  by  a  straight  or  vacillating 
radius,  to  its  centre.  The  better  you  knew  her,  the  more 
you  thought  about  her.  So  that  old  friends  after  years  of 
thought  now  and  then  surprised  her  by  suggesting  that 
friendship  should  be  exchanged  for  a  closer  bond;  pointing 
out  the  advantages  of  a  common-sense  union,  the  marriage 
of  convenience,  sympathy,  and  mutual  regard,  that  becomes 
appropriate  when  the  volcano  glow  of  youth  has  faded ;  and 
inviting  her  to  name  an  early  day  for  going  to  St.  Saviour's 
Church  with  them. 

In  the  shop,  among  all  grades  of  employees,  there  had  ever 
been  a  dread  of  St.  Saviour's  Church  and  wedding  bells. 
They  got  on  so  well  with  their  mistress  that  the  idea  of  a 

17 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

master  was  extraordinarily  abhorrent  to  them.  But  one  day, 
a  day  now  long  past,  Mrs.  Thompson  told  Mr.  Mears 
authoritatively  that  joy  bells  would  never  sound  for  her 
again;  Mr.  Mears,  by  permission,  or  in  the  exercise  of  his 
own  discretion,  passed  on  the  glad  tidings ;  *ind  the  only  dark 
thought  that  could  worry  a  contented  staff  was  removed. 

"  No,  Mr.  Mears,  I  don't  say  that  I  have  never  contem- 
plated the  possibility  of  such  an  event;  but  I  can  say  em- 
phatically I  have  decided  that  in  my  case  it  is  impossible." 

That  was  sufficient.  What  Mrs.  Thompson  said  Mrs« 
Thompson  meant.  A  decision  with  her  was  a  decision. 

Of  all  her  trusty  subordinates  none  had  sensed  her  so 
loyally  as  big  Mr.  Mears.  His  whole  life  had  Hen  spen': 
in  Thompson's.  Once  he  had  been  boy  messenger,  window- 
cleaner,  boot-blacker;  and  now,  at  the  age  of  sixty,  he  had 
risen  to  managerial  rank.  He  was  the  acknowledged  chief 
of  the  staff,  Mrs.  Thompson's  right-hand  man;  and  he  was 
as  proud  of  his  position  and  the  culminating  grandeurs  of 
his  career  as  if  he  had  been  a  successful  general,  a  prime- 
minister,  or  a  pope.  Mrs.  Thompson  knew  and  openly  told 
him  that  he  was  invaluable  to  her.  Such  words  were  like 
wine  and  music :  they  intoxicated  and  enchanted  him.  Truly 
he  was  whole-hearted,  faithful,  devoted,  with  a  deep  venera- 
tion for  his  mistress;  with  an  intense  and  almost  passionate 
esteem  for  her  skill,  her  comprehension,  her  vigour,  and  for 
her  herself  —  perhaps  too  with  a  love  that  he  scarcely  him- 
self understood. 

Anyhow  this  heavy  grey-haired  shopman  and  his  employer 
were  very  close  r^tes,  generally  thinking  as  one,  and  always, 
acting  as  one,  able  to  talk  together  with  a  nearly  absolute 
freedom  on  any  question,  however  intimately  private  in  its 
character. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Mears,  if  I  ever  meant  to  do  it,  I  should 
have  done  it  ages  ago.  Now  that  my  daughter  is  growing 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

up,  her  claims  for  attention  are  becoming  stronger  every 
day." 

Mr.  Mears  and  the  rest  of  the  staff  were  more  than 
satisfied.  Perhaps  they  blessed  the  idolized  Enid  for  an  in- 
creasing capacity  to  absorb  every  energy  and  volition  that 
Mrs.  Thompson  could  spare  from  the  shop. 

Whatever  Enid  wished  for  her  mother  provided.  She 
racked  her  brains  in  order  to  forestall  the  child's  wishes. 
But  the  difficulty  always  was  this,  one  could  not  be  quite 
sure  what  Enid  really  wished.  She  accepted  the  pretty 
gifts,  the  conditions  of  her  life,  the  plans  for  her  future, 
with  a  calm  unruffled  acquiescence. 

When  Mrs.  Thompson  regretfully  decided  that  it  would 
be  advisable  to  dismiss  the  expensive  governesses  and  send 
the  home  pupil  to  an  expensive  school,  Enid  placidly  and 
immediately  agreed.  Mrs.  Thompson  thought  that  school 
would  open  Enid's  mind,  that  school  would  give  her  an  op- 
portunity of  making  nice  girl-friends.  Enid  at  once  thought 
so,  too. 

"  But,  oh,  my  darling,  what  a  gap  there  will  be  in  this 
house!  You'll  leave  a  sore  and  a  sad  heart  behind  you.  I 
shall  miss  you  woefully." 

"  And  I  shall  miss  you,  mamma." 

Then,  when  Enid  had  gone  to  the  fashionable  seminary 
at  Eastbourne,  with  the  faithful  Yates  as  escort,  with  a 
wonderful  luncheon-basket  of  delicacies  in  the  first-class  re- 
served compartment,  with  several  huge  boxes  of  school 
trousseau  in  the  luggage  van,  Mrs.  Thompson  began  to 
suffer  tcrment.  Was  it  not  cruel  to  send  the  brave  little 
thing  away  from  her?  Might  not  her  darling  be  now  a 
prey  to  rimilar  yearnings  and  longings  for  a  swift  reunion? 
The  torment  became  agony;  and  after  two  days  Mrs. 
Thompson  rushed  down  to  see  for  lierself  if  the  new  scholar 
was  all  right. 

19 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Enid  was  entirely  all  right  —  playing  with  the  other  girls 
at  the  bottom  of  the  secluded  garden. 

"  Is  that  you,  mummy?"  This  was  a  form  of  greeting 
peculiar  to  Enid  from  very  early  days.  "  I  am  so  glad  to  see 
3rou,"  and  she  kissed  mamma  affectionately. 

She  was  uniformly  affectionate,  whether  at  school  or  at 
home,  but  never  explosive  or  demonstrative  in  the  manifes- 
tations of  her  affection.  There  was  more  warmth  in  her 
letters  than  in  her  spoken  words.  "  My  own  dearest 
mother,"  she  used  to  write,  "  I  am  so  looking  forward  to 
being  with  you  again.  Do  meet  me  at  the  station."  But 
when  the  train  arrived  and  Mrs.  Thompson,  who  had  been 
pacing  the  Mallingbridge  platform  in  a  fever  of  expecta- 
tion, clasped  the  beloved  object  to  her  heart,  she  experienced 
something  akin  to  disappointment.  It  was  a  sedately  com- 
posed young  lady  that  offered  a  cool  cheek  to  the  mother's 
tremulous  lips. 

Now  and  then  a  school-friend  came  to  stay  with  Enid. 
A  Miss  Salter,  whose  parents  proved  large-minded  enough 
to  overlook  the  glaring  fact  of  the  shop,  was  a  fairly  fre- 
quent visitor.  During  the  visit  one  of  Mr.  Young's  car- 
riages stood  at  the  disposal  of  the  young  hostess  and  her 
guest  all  day  long;  breakfasts  were  served  in  bed;  a  private 
box  at  the  local  theatre  might  be  occupied  any  evening  be- 
tween the  cosy  dinner  and  the  dainty  little  supper;  and  Mrs. 
Thompson  arranged  delightful  expeditions  to  London,  where, 
Under  the  guardianship  of  Yates,  larger  sights  and  more  ex- 
citing treats  could  be  enjoyed  than  any  attainable  in 
Mallingbridge. 

The  condescending  guest  returned  to  her  distinguished 
circle  laden  with  presents,  and  frankly  owned  that  she  had 
been  given  a  royal  time  at  the  queer  shop-house  in  St. 
Saviour's  Court. 

Enid  in  her  turn  visited  the  houses  of  her  friends,  and 

20 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

came  home  to  tell  Mrs.  Thompson  of  that  pleasant  gracious 
world  in  which  people  do  not  work  for  their  living,  but 
derive  their  ample  means  from  splendidly  interred  ancestors. 
With  satisfaction,  if  not  with  animation,  she  described  how 
greatly  butlers  and  footmen  surpass  the  art  of  parlourmaids 
in  waiting  at  table;  how  gay  an  effect  is  produced  by  young 
men  dining  in  red  coats,  how  baronets  often  shoot  with 
three  guns,  how  lords  never  use  less  than  two  horses  in 
the  hunting  field,  and  so  on.  And  Mrs.  Thompson  was 
happy  in  the  thought  that  her  daughter  should  be  mingling 
with  fine  company  and  deriving  pleasure  from  strange  scenes. 

She  ,was  careful  to  obliterate  herself  in  all  such  social 
intercourse.  Courteous  letters  were  exchanged  between 
her  and  Enid's  hosts ;  but  the  girl  and  Yates  were  despatched 
together,  and  Mrs.  Thompson  refused  even  a  glimpse  of  the 
Salters'  mansion. 

"  Later  on,"  she  told  Enid,  "  when  we  have  done  with 
the  shop,  I  shall  hope  to  take  my  place  in  society  by  my 
pretty  daughter's  side.  But  for  the  present  I  must  just  keep 
to  myself.  .  .  .  The  old  prejudice  against  retail  trade 
still  lingers  —  more  especially  among  the  class  that  used  to 
be  termed  country  people." 

Enid  dutifully  agreed.  Indeed  she  told  her  mother  that 
the  old  prejudice  was  much  more  active  than  anyone  could 
guess  who  had  not  personally  encountered  it.  The  shop  was, 
so  to  speak,  a  very  large  pill,  and  needed  a  considerable 
amount  of  swallowing. 

"  I  found  that  out  in  my  first  term  at  school,  mother 
dear." 

"  Mother  dear  "  was  now  Enid's  unvaried  mode  of  ad- 
dress when  talking  to  her  mamma.  All  her  friends  ad- 
dressed their  mammas  as  mother  dear.  School  was  over 
in  these  days.  Miss  Thompson  had  been  finished ;  she  did 
her  country-house  visiting  with  a  maid  of  her  own,  and  no 

21 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

longer  with  old  Yates;  as  much  as  she  appeared  to  like  any- 
thing, she  liked  staying  about  at  country-houses;  she  never 
refused  an  invitation  —  except  when  she  was  previously 
engaged. 

Something  perhaps  wanting  here  in  the  finished  article,  as 
polished  and  pointed  by  Eastbourne  school-mistresses;  some- 
thing not  quite  right  in  Enid's  placid  acquiescences  and  too 
rapid  concurrences;  something  that  suggested  the  smooth 
surface  of  a  languid  shallow  stream,  and  not  the  broad  calm 
that  lies  above  deep  strong  currents!  Perhaps  Mrs. 
Thompson  would  have  preferred  a  more  exuberant  rec- 
iprocity in  her  great  love;  perhaps  she  secretly  yearned  for 
a  full  response  to  the  open  appeal  of  her  expansive,  generous 
nature. 

If  so,  she  never  said  it.  She  was  generous  in  thoughts 
as  well  as  in  deeds.  In  big  things  as  in  small  things  she 
seemed  to  think  that  it  was  for  her  to  give  and  for  others 
to  receive.  From  the  vicar  craving  funds  for  his  new  organ 
to  the  crossing  sweeper  who  ostentatiously  slapped  his  chest 
on  cold  mornings,  all  who  asked  for  largesse  received  a 
handsome  dole.  At  the  railway-station,  when  she  appeared, 
ticket-collectors  and  porters  tumbled  over  one  another  in 
their  rush  to  dance  attendance  —  so  solid  was  her  reputation 
as  a  lavishly  tremendous  tipper. 

"  She  is  making  so  much  money  herself  that  she  can 
afford  to  be  free  with  it."  That  was  the  view  of  the  town, 
and  her  own  view,  too.  So  all  the  tradesmen  with  whom  she 
dealt  flagrantly  overcharged  her  —  dressmakers,  livery  stable 
peepers,  wine-merchants,  florists,  every  one  of  them  said  it 
was  a  privilege  to  serve  her,  and  then  sent  in  an  extortionate 
bill.  And  she  paid  and  thanked  with  a  genial  smile. 

Donations  to  the  hospitals,  subscriptions  to  the  police  con- 
cert, the  watermen's  regatta,  the  railway  servants'  sports  — 
really  there  was  no  end  to  the  demands  that  she  met  so 

22 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

cheerily.  Christmas  turkeys  for  the  Corporation  underlings; 
cigars  for  the  advertisement  printers;  small  and  big  dinners, 
with  salvos  of  champagne  corks  threatening  the  Dolphin 
ceilings,  for  aldermen,  councillors,  and  all  other  urban  mag- 
nates —  really  it  was  no  wonder  that  the  town  had  a  good 
word  for  her. 

Mr.  Prentice,  the  solicitor,  always  tried  and  always  failed 
to  curb  her  liberality.  Mr.  Prentice  kept  himself  outside 
of  the  Corporation's  affairs,  and  expressed  considerable  con- 
tempt for  the  municipal  representatives  and  the  local  trades- 
men. When  Mrs.  Thompson  spoke  with  gratitude  of  the 
kindness  of  friends  who  helped  her  by  loans  in  her  early 
struggle,  Mr.  Prentice  mocked  at  these  spurious  benefactors. 

"  They  did  nothing  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Prentice. 

"  Oh,  how  can  you  pretend  that?  " 

"  They  lent  you  money  on  excellent  security  and  took 
high  interest ;  and  you  have  been  feasting  them  and  flattering 
them  ever  since." 

"  I  do  like  to  feel  that  I  am  on  good  terms  with  those 
about  me." 

Then  Mr.  Prentice  would  laugh.  "  Oh,  well,  you  have 
certainly  got  the  Corporation  in  your  pocket.  You  make 
them  your  slaves  —  as  you  make  me  and  everyone  else.  So 
I'll  say  no  more.  No  doubt  you  know  your  own  business 
best." 

And  she  did.  That  well-used  formula  of  the  town  might 
have  been  a  high-flown  compliment  at  the  beginning,  but  it 
was  sober  truth  now.  No  man  in  Mallingbridge  could 
touch  her.  The  years,  taking  so  much  from  her,  had  also 
brought  her  much.  With  ripening  judgment,,  widening 
knowledge,  and  the  accumulated  treasure  of  experience,  her 
business  faculty  had  developed  into  something  very  near  the 
highest  form  of  genius.  She  had  insight,  sense  of  organiza- 
tion, the  power  of  launching  out  boldly  and  accepting  heavy 

23 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

risks  to  secure  large  gains;  but  she  had  also  caution,  concen- 
tration of  purpose  in  minor  aims,  and  rapid  decision  in  facing 
a  failure  and  cutting  short  consequent  losses.  In  a  word, 
she  possessed  all  the  best  attributes  of  your  good  man  of 
business,  and  the  little  more  that  makes  up  greatness. 

She  could  always  do  that  which  very  few  men  consistently 
achieve.  She  mastered  the  situation  of  the  moment,  struck 
directly  at  the  root  of  the  difficulty  that  confronted  her,  and, 
sweeping  aside  irrelevancies,  non-essentials,  and  entangle- 
ments, saw  in  the  cold  bright  light  of  logical  thought  the 
open  road  that  leads  from  chaos  to  security. 

And  no  man  could  have  been  a  more  absolute  ruler. 
Every  year  of  her  success  made  her  dominion  more  complete. 
Womanlike,  she  ruled  her  world  by  kindness;  but  man-like, 
she  enforced  her  law  by  a  show  of  strength,  and  weight,  and 
even  of  mere  noise.  Not  often,  but  whenever  necessary,  she 
acted  a  man's  violence,  and  used  bad  language.  When  Mrs. 
Thompson  swore  the  whole  shop  trembled. 

The  swearing  was  a  purely  histrionic  effort,  but  she  carried 
it  through  nobly. 

"  Have  you  heard  ?  "  A  tremulous  whisper  ran  along  the 
counters.  "  Mrs.  T.  went  out  into  the  yard,  and  damned 
those  carters  into  heaps.  .  .  .  Mrs.  T.  'as  just  bin 
down  into  the  packing  room,  and  given  'em  damson  pie  — 
and  I'm  sure  they  jolly  well  deserved  it.  ...  Look  out. 
Here  she  comes!  " 

The  brawny  carters  hung  their  heads,  the  hulking  packers 
cleared  their  throats  huskily,  the  timorous  shop-hands  looked 
at  the  floor.  Mrs.  Thompson  passed  like  a  silent  whirlwind 
through  the  shop,  and  banged  the  counting-house  door  be- 
hind her. 

When  Enid  was  away  from  home  the  counting-house 
was  sometimes  occupied  to  a  late  hour.  Staff  long  since 
gone,  lights  out  everywhere;  but  light  still  shining  in  that 

24 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

inner  room,  fighting  the  darkness  above  the  glass  parti- 
tions. The  night  watchman,  pacing  to  and  fro,  kept  him- 
self alert  —  a  real  watchman,  ready  with  his  lantern  to 
conduct  Mrs.  Thompson  through  the  shrouded  avenues  of 
counter,  and  upstairs  to  the  door  of  communication. 

When  Enid  was  away  the  house  seemed  empty;  and  the 
empty  house,  curiously  enough,  always  seemed  smaller.  It 
was  as  though  because  the  life  of  the  house  had  contracted, 
the  four  walls  had  themselves  drawn  nearer  together.  Yet 
the  little  rooms  were  just  big  enough  to  hold  ghosts  and 
sad  memories. 

"  You  look  thoroughly  fagged  out,  ma'am.  You  over- 
do it.  Let  me  open  you  a  pint  of  champagne  for  your 
supper." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Yates.  .  .  .  But  sit  down,  and 
talk  to  me." 

The  old  servant  sat  at  the  table,  and  kept  her  mistress 
company  through  what  would  otherwise  have  been  a  lonely 
meal.  In  Miss  Enid's  absence  she  had  no  house  news  to 
offer,  so  Mrs.  Thompson  gave  her  the  shop  news. 

"  I  swore  at  them  to-day,  Yates." 

"  Did  you  indeed,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  drove  you  to  that,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  packing-room  again  —  and  those  carters.  I  in- 
formed Mr.  Mears  that  I  should  do  it;  and  he  kept  his 
eyes  open,  and  came  up  quietly  and  told  me  when.  .  .  . 
Mr.  Mears  was  delighted  with  it.  He  told  me  at  closing 
time  that  things  had  gone  like  clockwork  ever  since." 

In   her  comfortable  bedroom   Mrs.   Thompson  shivered. 

11  Yates,  I  feel  cold.     I  suppose  it  is  because  I'm  tired." 

"  Shall  I  make  you  a  glass  of  hot  grog  to  drink  in  bed  ?  " 

"  No.  .  .  .  But  come  in  again  when  I  ring  —  and 
stay  with  me  for  a  few  minutes,  will  you,  Yates  ?  " 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

The  old  servant  sat  by  the  bedside  until  her  mistress  be- 
came drowsy. 

"  I'll  leave  you  now,  ma'am.  Good-night,  and  pleasant 
dreams." 

"Yates--  kiss  me." 

Yates  stooped  over  her  lonely  mistress,  and  kissed  her. 
Then  she  softly  switched  off  the  light,  and  left  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son alone  in  the  darkness. 


Ill 

WHEN  old  employees  looked  out  of  Thompson's  win- 
dows they  sometimes  had  a  queer  impression  that  this  side 
of  the  street  was  stationary,  and  that  the  other  side  of  the 
street  was  moving.  Six  years  ago  Bence  the  fancy-draper 
had  been  eight  doors  off;  but  he  had  come  nearer  and 
nearer  as  he  absorbed  his  neighbours'  premises  one  after 
another.  Now  the  end  of  Bence's  just  overlapped  Thomp- 
son's. For  three  or  four  feet  he  was  fairly  opposite. 

Just  as  Thompson's  represented  all  that  was  good  and 
stable  in  the  trade  of  Mallingbridge,  Bence's  stood  for  every- 
thing bad  and  evanescent.  A  horrid  catch-penny  shop,  in- 
creasing its  business  rapidly,  practising  the  odious  modern 
methods  of  remorseless  rivalry,  Bence's  was  almost  uni- 
versally hated.  They  outraged  the  feelings  of  old  estab- 
lished tradesmen  by  taking  up  lines  which  cut  into  one 
cruelly:  they  burst  out  into  books,  into  trunks,  into  iron- 
mongery; at  Christmas,  in  what  they  called  their  grand 
annual  bazaar,  they  had  a  cut  at  the  trade  of  every  shop 
throughout  the  length  of  High  Street.  But  especially,  at 
all  seasons  of  the  year,  they  cut  into  Thompson's.  The 
marked  deliberate  attack  was  when  they  first  regularly  took 
up  Manchester  goods.  Then  came  Carpets,  then  Crock- 
ery, and  then  Garden  requisites. 

But  Bence,  in  the  person  of  Mr.  Archibald,  the  senior 
partner,  always  announced  the  coming  attack  to  Mrs. 
Thompson.  He  said  she  was  the  superior  of  all  the  other 
traders;  he  could  never  forget  that  she  was  a  lady,  and 
that  he  himself  was  one  of  her  most  respectful  yet  most 
3  27 


MKS.  THOMPSON 

ardent  admirers;  he  desired  ever  to  treat  her  with  the 
utmost  chivalry.  Thus  now  he  came  over,  full  of  gallant 
compliments,  to  make  a  fresh  announcement. 

Mrs.  Thompson  always  treated  Bence  and  his  dirty  little 
tricks  as  a  joke.  She  used  to  laugh  at  him  with  a  good- 
humoured  tolerance. 

"  Of  course,  Mrs.  Thompson,  I  don't  like  seeming  to 
run  you  hard  in  any  direction.  But  lor',  how  can  /  hurt 
you?  You're  big  —  you're  right  up  there" — and  Mr. 
Bence  waved  a  thin  hand  above  his  bald  head  — "  a  colossal 
statue,  made  of  granite.  And  I,  why  I'm  just  a  poor  little 
insect  scrabbling  about  in  the  mud  at  your  feet." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  smiling  pleasantly, 
"  you're  nothing  of  the  sort.  You  are  a  very  clever  enter- 
prising gentleman.  But  I'm  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  you, 
Mr.  Bence." 

"That's  right,"  said  Bence  delightedly.  "And  always 
remember  this.  I  am  not  fighting  you.  Any  attempt  at  a 
real  fight  is  simply  foreign  from  my  nature  —  that  is,  where 
you  are  concerned." 

"  Never  mind  me,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  once.  "  But 
take  care  on  your  own  account.  Vaulting  ambition  some- 
times o'erleaps  itself." 

"Ah,"  said  Bence.  "There  you  show  your  marvellous 
power.  You  put  your  finger  on  the  sore  spot  in  a  moment. 
I  am  ambitious.  I  might  almost  say  my  ambitions  are 
boundless.  Work  is  life  to  me  —  and  if  I  was  by  myself, 
I  don't  believe  anything  would  stop  me.  But,"  said  Bence, 
with  solemn  self-pity,  "  as  all  the  world  knows,  Mrs. 
Thompson,  there's  a  leak  in  my  business." 

Mrs.  Thompson  perfectly  understood  what  he  meant. 
This  working  Bence  was  a  sallow,  prematurely  bald  man 
with  a  waxed  moustache  and  a  cracked  voice,  and  he  toiled 
incessantly;  but  there  were  two  younger  Bences,  bluff, 

28 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

hearty,  hirsute  men,  who  were  sleeping  partners,  and  eating, 
drinking,  and  loose-living  partners.  While  Mr.  Archibald 
laboured  in  Mallingbridge,  Mr.  Charles  and  Mr.  George 
idled  and  squandered  in  London. 

"  That's  the  trouble  with  me,"  said  Mr.  Archibald 
sadly.  "  I'm  the  captain  on  his  bridge,  sending  the  ship 
full  speed  ahead,  but  knowing  full  well  that  there's  a  leak 
down  below  in  the  hold.  .  .  .  Never  sufficient  money 
behind  me.  .  .  .  Oh,  Mrs.  Thompson,"  cried  Bence, 
in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm,  "  if  I  only  had  the  money  behind 
me,  I'd  soon  show  you  what's  what  and  who's  who.  But 
I'm  a  man  fighting  with  tied  hands." 

"  Not  fighting  me,  Mr.  Bence.  You  said  so  yourself." 
"  No,  no.  Never  you.  I  was  thinking  of  the  others." 
Well  then,  Bence  had  come  across  the  road  once  more. 
In  the  letter  which  Mrs.  Thompson,  when  showing  it  to 
her  solicitor,  had  described  as  impertinent,  Bence  presented 
his  compliments  and  begged  an  early  appointment  for  a 
communication  of  some  importance.  Mr.  Bence  added  that 
"  any  hints  from  Mrs.  Thompson  in  regard  to  his  pro- 
posed new  departure  would  be  esteemed  a  privileged  favour." 
Mrs.  Thompson  considered  the  suggestion  that  she  should 
advise  the  rival  in  his  attack  as  perhaps  something  beyond 
the  limits  of  a  joke.  Nevertheless,  she  gave  the  appoint- 
ment, and  smilingly  received  the  visitor  in  her  own  room 
behind  the  counting-house. 

"  May  I  begin  by  saying  how  splendidly  well  you  are 
looking,  Mrs.  Thompson?  .  .  .  When  I  came  in  at 
that  door,  I  thought  there'd  been  a  mistake.  Seeing  you 
sitting  there  at  your  desk,  I  thought,  '  But  this  is  Miss 
Thompson,  and  not  my  great  friend  Mrs.  Thompson.'  Mis- 
took you  for  your  own  daughter,  till  you  turned  round  and 
showed  me  that  well-known  respected  countenance  which  — " 
"  Now  Mr.  Bence,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  laughing,  "  I 

29 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

can't  allow  you  to  waste  your  valuable  time  in  saying  all 
these  flattering  things." 

"  No  flattery." 

"  Please  sit  down  and  tell  me  what  new  wickedness  you 
are  contemplating." 

Then  Mr.  Bence  made  his  announcement.  It  was  Furni- 
ture this  time.  He  had  bought  out  two  more  neighbours 
—  the  old-fashioned  sadler  and  the  bookseller ;  and  he  pro- 
posed to  convert  these  two  shops  into  his  new  furniture 
department. 

Mrs.  Thompson's  brows  gathered  in  a  stern  frown;  only 
by  a  visible  effort  could  she  wipe  out  the  aspect  of  dis- 
pleasure, and  speak  with  careless  urbanity. 

"  Let  me  see  exactly  what  it  means,  Mr.  Bence.  .  .  . 
I  suppose  you  mean  that  your  Furniture  windows  will  be 
exactly  opposite  mine." 

"  Well,  as  near  as  makes  no  difference." 

"  That  will  be  very  convenient  —  for  both  of  us,  won't 
it?  I  think  it  is  an  excellent  idea,  Mr.  Bence,"  and  Mrs. 
Thompson  laughed.  "  Customers  who  can't  see  what  they 
want  here,  can  step  across  and  look  for  it  with  you." 

"  Oh,  I  daren't  hope  that  we  should  ever  draw  anybody 
from  your  pavement,  Mrs.  Thompson." 

"  You  are  much  too  modest.  But  if  it  should  ever  hap- 
pen that  you  fail  to  supply  any  customers  with  what  they 
desire,  you  can  send  them  across  to  us.  You'd  do  that, 
wouldn't  you?  " 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  said  Bence  heartily.  "  That's  what 
I  say.  We  don't  clash.  We  cant  clash." 

Mrs.  Thompson  struck  the  bell  on  her  desk,  and  sum- 
moned a  secretary. 

"  Send  Mr.  Mears  to  me." 

The  sight  of  Bence  always  ruffled  and  disturbed  old 
Mears.  Seeing  Bence  complacently  seated  near  the  bureau 

30 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

in  the  proprietorial  sanctum,  his  face  flushed,  his  grey  beard 
bristled,  and  his  dark  eyes  rolled  angrily. 

When  Mrs.  Thompson  told  him  all  about  the  furniture, 
he  grunted,  but  did  not  at  first  trust  himself  to  words. 

"Well,  Mr.  Mears,  what  do  you  think  about  it?'* 

"  I  think,"  said  Mears  gruffly,  "  that  it's  like  Mr.  Bence." 

"  I  was  remarking,"  said  Bence,  nodding  and  grinning, 
"  that  we  cannot  possibly  clash.  Our  customers  are  poor 
little  people  —  not  like  your  rich  and  influential  clientele. 
Our  whole  scheme  of  business  is  totally  different  from  yours." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Mears,  and  he  gave  another  grunt. 

"  You  know,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  "  Mr.  Bence  is  not 
fighting  us.  He  is  only  carrying  out  his  own  system." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mears,  "  we  are  acquainted  with  his  system, 
ma'am." 

"  Then  I  think  that  no  more  need  be  said.  We  are  quite 
prepared  for  any  opposition  —  or  competition." 

"  Quite,  ma'am." 

"  Then  I  won't  detain  you,  Mr.  Mears." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Mears,"  said  Bence  politely.  But 
Mr.  Mears  only  grunted  at  him. 

"  What  a  sterling  character,"  said  Bence,  as  soon  as  Mr. 
Mears  had  closed  the  glass  door.  "  One  of  the  good  old 
school,  isn't  he?  I  do  admire  that  sort  of  dignified  trust- 
worthy personage.  Gives  the  grand  air  to  an  establish- 
ment. .  .  .  But  then  if  it  comes  to  that,  I  admire  all 
your  people,  Mrs.  Thompson ;  "  and  he  wound  up  this  morn- 
ing call  with  sycophantically  profuse  compliments.  "  Your 
staff  strikes  me  as  unique.  I  don't  know  where  you  get 
'em  from.  You  seem  to  spot  merit  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye.  .  .  .  But  I  have  trespassed  more  than  sufficient. 
I  see  you  wish  to  get  back  to  your  desk.  Good  morning, 
Mrs.  Thompson.  Ever  your  humble  servant;"  and  Mr. 
Bence  bowed  himself  out. 


IV 

CERTAINLY,  if  Mrs.  Thompson  could  not  accept  the  bulk 
of  Archibald  Bence's  compliments,  she  might  justly  pride 
herself  on  being  always  anxious  to  spot  merit  among  her 
people.  Unaided  by  any  advice,  she  had  quickly  spotted 
the  young  man  in  the  Carpets  department. 

Making  her  tour  of  inspection  one  day,  she  was  drawn 
towards  the  wide  entrance  of  Carpets  by  the  unseemly  noise 
of  a  common  female  voice.  Looking  into  Carpets,  she  found 
the  shrewish  wife  of  an  old  farmer  raging  and  nagging  at 
everybody,  because  she  could  not  satisfy  herself  with  what 
was  being  offered  to  her.  Half  the  stock  was  already  on 
the  floor;  Number  One  and  Number  Two  were  at  their 
wits'  ends,  becoming  idiotic,  on  the  verge  of  collapse;  Num- 
ber Three  had  just  come  to  their  rescue. 

"  Oh,  take  it  away.  .  .  .  No  —  not  a  bit  like  what 
I'm  asking  for."  And  the  virago  turned  to  her  hen-pecked 
husband.  "  You  were  a  fool  to  bring  me  here.  I  told 
you  we  ought  to  have  gone  to  London." 

"  But  madam  knows  the  old  saying.  One  may  go  farther 
and  fare  worse.  I  can  assure  you,  madam,  there's  nothing 
in  the  London  houses  that  we  can't  supply  here." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you're  glib  enough  —  but  if  you've  got  it,  why 
don't  you  bring  it  out?  " 

"  If  madam  will  have  patience,  I  guarantee  that  we  will 
suit  her  —  yes,  in  less  than  three  minutes." 

The  young  man  spoke  firmly  yet  pleasantly;  and  he 
looked  and  smiled  at  this  ugly  vixenish  customer  as  though 
she  had  been  young,  gracious,  and  beautiful. 

32 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mrs.  Thompson  did  not  intervene:  she  stood  near  the 
entrance,  watching  and  listening. 

"  Now,  madam,  if  you  want  value  for  your  money,  look 
at  this.  ...  No?  ...  Very  good.  This,  is  Ax- 
minster  —  genuine  Axminster, —  and  very  charming  colour- 
ing .  .  .  No?  .  .  .  What  does  madam  think  of 
this?  .  .  .  No?" 

He  spun  out  the  vast  webs;  with  bowed  back  and  quick 
movements  of  both  hands  he  trundled  the  enormous  rollers 
across  the  polished  floor;  he  ran  up  the  ladders  and  jerked 
the  folded  masses  from  the  shelves;  he  flopped  down  the 
cut  squares  so  fast  that  the  piled  heaps  seemed  to  grow  by 
magic  before  the  customer's  chair. 

Doubtless  he  knew  that  he  was  being  observed,  but  he 
showed  no  knowledge  of  the  fact.  As  he  hurried  past  Mrs. 
Thompson,  she  noticed  that  he  was  perspiring.  He  dabbed 
his  white  forehead  with  his  handkerchief  as  he  passed  again, 
trundling  a  roll  with  one  hand. 

Mrs.  Thompson  felt  astounded  by  his  personal  strength. 
Mr.  Mears  was  strong,  a  man  of  comparatively  huge  girth 
and  massive  limbs;  he  could  lift  big  weights;  but  Mears  in 
his  prime  could  not  have  shifted  the  carpet  rolls  as  they 
were  shifted  by  this  slim-waisted  stripling. 

Two  minutes  gone,  and  the  querulous,  nagging  tones  were 
modulated  to  the  note  of  vulgar  affability.  Two  minutes  — 
thirty  seconds,  and  the  customer  had  decided  that  her  carpet 
should  be  one  of  the  three  which  she  was  prodding  at  with 
her  umbrella.  She  asked  Mr.  Marsden  to  help  her  in  mak- 
ing the  final  selection. 

Mr.  Marsden  was  standing  up  now,  Numbers  One  and 
Two  clumsily  hovering  about  him,  while  he  talked  easily 
and  confidentially  to  the  mollified  customer.  And  while  he 
talked,  Mrs.  Thompson  scrutinized  him  carefully. 

He  could  not  be  more  than  twenty-seven  —  possibly  less. 

33 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

He  was  gracefully  although  so  strongly  built,  of  medium 
height,  with  an  excellent  poise  of  the  head.  His  hair  was 
brownish,  stiff,  cut  very  short;  his  small  stiff  moustache 
was  brushed  up  in  the  military  fashion;  his  features  were 
of  the  firmest  masculine  type  —  nose  perhaps  a  shade  too 
thick  and  not  sufficiently  well  modelled.  She  could  not  see 
the  colour  of  his  eyes. 

But  his  manner!  It  was  the  salesman's  art  in  its  highest 
and  rarest  form.  He  had  charmed,  fascinated,  hypnotised 
the  troublesome  customer.  She  bought  her  carpets,  and  two 
door  mats;  she  smiled  and  nodded  and  prattled;  she  seemed 
quite  sorry  to  say  good-bye  to  Mr.  Marsden. 

"  I  shall  tell  my  friends  to  come  here,"  and  then  she 
giggled  stupidly.  "And  I  shall  tell  them  to  ask  for  you." 

Without  entering  Carpets,  Mrs.  Thompson  walked  away. 
She  did  not  utter  a  word  then;  but  she  had  determined  to 
promote  Number  Three,  to  give  him  more  scope,  and  to  see 
what  she  could  make  of  him. 

She  moved  him  through  the  Woollens,  the  Cretonnes ;  and 
then  again,  upstairs  into  Crockery. 

Crockery,  which  had  of  late  betrayed  sluggishness,  was 
one  side  of  a  large  department.  Beginning  with  common 
pots  and  pans,  it  shaded  off  into  glass  and  china;  and  on 
this  side  ran  up  to  the  big  money  which  was  properly  de- 
manded for  the  most  delicate  porcelain  and  ornamental  ware 
—  such  as  best  English  dinner  services  and  modern  Sevres 
candelabra.  Young  Marsden  was  given  charge  of  the  cheaper 
and  quicker-selling  stuff,  while  Miss  Woolfrey,  a  freckled, 
sandy  lady  of  forty,  remained  for  the  present  in  control  of 
the  expensive  side.  But  she  was  not  a  titular  head ;  Mears 
and  Mrs.  Thompson  herself  superintended  her,  allowing 
her  little  discretion,  and  instructing  her  from  day  to  day. 

After  a  week  Marsden,  the  newcomer,  got  a  distinct 
move  on  the  sluggish  earthenware;  and,  after  three  weeks, 

34 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mears  rather  grudgingly  confessed  that  the  whole  depart- 
ment appeared  to  be  brisker,  livelier,  more  what  one  would 
wish  it  to  be. 

On  the  whole,  then,  Mrs.  Thompson  was  well  pleased 
with  her  protege.  She  spoke  to  him  freely,  encouraged  him 
by  carefully  chosen  words  of  approval. 

One  day,  while  talking  to  a  desk-clerk,  she  saw  him 
in  an  adjacent  mirror  that  gave  one  a  round-the-corner  view 
of  Glass  and  China.  He  was  standing  with  a  trade  cata- 
logue in  his  hands,  surrounded  by  Miss  Woolfrey  and  three 
girls.  He  seemed  to  be  expounding  the  catalogue,  and  the 
women  seemed  to  exhibit  a  docile  attention. 

Mrs.  Thompson  went  in  and  talked  to  them. 

There  had  been  an  accident,  and  Mr.  Marsden  was  look- 
ing up  the  trade  price  of  the  destroyed  article.  Poor  Miss 
Woolfrey  had  broken  a  cut-glass  decanter  —  she  got  upon 
the  steps  to  fetch  it  down,  and  it  was  heavier  than  she 
expected. 

"  Why,"  inquired  Mrs.  Thompson,  "  didn't  you  ask  some- 
one to  help  you  ?  " 

"  I  never  thought  till  it  was  too  late,  and  I'd  found  out 
my  mistake." 

There  was  no  need  to  offer  apologies  to  the  proprietress, 
because  all  breakages  of  this  character  were  made  good  out 
of  an  insurance  fund  to  which  all  the  employees  subscribed. 
The  whole  shop  was  therefore  interested  in  each  smash, 
since  everybody  would  pay  a  share  of  the  damage. 

"  Mr.  Marsden,"  said  Miss  Woolfrey,  "  has  so  very 
kindly  priced  it  for  me.  He  will  send  on  the  order  at  once. 
So  it  shall  be  replaced,  ma'am,  without  delay." 

The  three  interested  girls  lingered  at  Mr.  Marsden's 
elbows;  they  watched  his  face;  they  hung  upon  his  words. 
Miss  Woolfrey  continued  to  thank  him  for  all  the  trouble 
he  was  taking. 

35 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mrs.  Thompson  walked  away,  thinking  about  Mr. 
Marsden.  These  women  were  too  obviously  subject  to  the 
young  man's  personal  fascination;  their  silly  glances  were 
easy  to  interpret;  and  middle-aged  Miss  Woolfrey  and  the 
three  immature  underlings  had  all  betrayed  the  same  weak- 
ness. This  implied  a  situation  that  must  be  thought  out. 
Lady-killers,  though  useful  with  the  customers,  may  cause 
a  lot  of  trouble  with  the  staff. 

There  was  no  indication  of  the  professional  heart-dis- 
turber in  the  young  fellow's  general  air.  Mrs.  Thompson 
had  found  his  manner  scrupulously  correct  —  except  that, 
as  she  remembered  now,  there  was  perhaps  something  too 
hardy  in  the  way  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  her  face.  She 
attributed  this  to  sheer  intentness,  mingled  with  juvenile 
simplicity.  Most  of  the  older  men  instinctively  dropped 
their  eyes  in  her  presence. 

After  a  little  thought  she  called  Mears  behind  the  glass, 
and  interrogated  him.  "  Behind  the  glass "  was  a  shop 
term  for  all  the  sacred  region  masked  by  the  glass  partitions, 
and  containing  counting-house,  clerks'  and  secretary's  offices, 
managerial  and  the  proprietorial  departments. 

"  If  you  want  the  plain  fact,"  said  Mr.  Mears,  "  there's 
little  difference  in  the  pack  of  'em." 

"  Do  you  mean  they  are  silly  about  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mears  scornfully.  "  Spoony  sentimental  — 
talking  ridiculous  over  him." 

"But  is  he  all  right  with  the  girls?  What  is  his  atti- 
tude? .  .  .  Find  out  for  me." 

Mrs.  Thompson  was  always  wisely  strict  on  this  most 
important  point  of  shop  discipline.  No  playing  the  fool 
between  the  young  ladies  and  young  gentlemen  under  the 
care  of  Mrs.  Thompson. 

"  I  will  not  permit  it,"  she  said  sternly;  and  she  laid  her 
open  hand  upon  the  desk,  to  give  weightier  emphasis  to  the 

36 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

words.  "  We  must  have  no  condoning  of  that  sort  of  thing. 
If  I  catch  him  at  it  —  if  I  catch  anyone,  out  he  goes  neck 
and  crop." 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days  Mr.  Mears  reported,  still 
grudgingly,  that  young  Marsden's  demeanour  towards  the 
young  ladies  was  absolutely  perfect.  Stoical  indifference, 
calm  disregard,  not  even  a  trace  of  that  flirting  or  inno- 
cently philandering  tone  which  is  so  common,  and  to  which 
one  can  scarcely  object. 

"  Good,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson.  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  it  — 
because  now  I  shan't  be  afraid  of  advancing  him." 

"  But,"  said  Mears,  "  you  have  advanced  him.  You 
aren't  thinking  of  putting  him  up  again  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure.  Something  must  be  done  about  Miss 
Woolfrey.  I  will  think  about  it." 

It  was  not  long  before  Mears,  young  Marsden  and  Miss 
Woolfrey  were  all  summoned  together  behind  the  glass. 
The  typewriting  girl  had  been  sent  out  of  the  room;  Mrs. 
Thompson  sat  in  front  of  her  bureau,  looking  like  a  great 
general;  Mr.  Mears,  at  her  side,  looked  like  a  glum  aide-de- 
camp; the  young  man  looked  like  a  soldier  who  had  been 
beckoned  to  step  forward  from  the  ranks.  He  stood  at  a 
respectful  distance,  and  his  bearing  was  quite  soldierlike  — 
heels  together,  head  well  up,  the  broad  shoulders  very  square, 
and  the  muscular  back  straight  and  flat.  His  eyes  were  on 
the  general's  face. 

Sandy,  freckled  Miss  Woolfrey  merely  looked  foolish  and 
frightened.  She  caught  her  breath  and  coughed  when  Mrs. 
Thompson  informed  her  that  Mr.  Marsden  was  to  be  put 
in  charge  of  the  whole  department. 

"  Over  my  head,  ma'am?  " 

"  It  will  make  no  difference  to  you.  Your  salary  will  be 
no  less.  And  yours,  Mr.  Marsden,  will  be  no  more.  But 
you  will  have  fuller  scope." 

37 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Miss  Woolfrey  feebly  protested.  She  had  hoped, —  she  had 
naturally  hoped ;  —  in  a  customary  shop-succession  the  post 
should  be  hers. 

"  Miss  Woolfrey,  do  you  feel  yourself  competent  to  fill 
it?  Hitherto  you  have  been  under  the  constant  supervision 
of  Mr.  Mears.  But  do  you  honestly  feel  you  could  stand 
alone?" 

"  I'd  do  my  best,  ma'am." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  cordially,  "  I'm  sure  you 
would.  But  with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  there  are  limits 
to  one's  capacity.  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  this  is 
a  man's  task;"  and  she  turned  to  the  fortunate  salesman. 
"  Mr.  Marsden,  you  will  not  in  any  way  interfere  with  Miss 
iWoolfrey  —  but  you  will  remember  that  the  department  is 
now  in  your  sole  charge.  If  I  have  to  complain,  it  will  be 
to  you.  If  things  go  wrong,  it  is  you  that  I  shall  call  to 


Nothing  went  wrong  in  China  and  Glass.  But  sometimes 
Mrs.  Thompson  secretly  asked  herself  if  she  or  Mears  had 
been  right.  Had  she  acted  wisely  when  pushing  an  untried 
man  so  promptly  to  the  front? 

During  these  pleasant  if  enervating  months  of  May  and 
June  she  watched  him  closely. 

Somehow  he  took  liberties.  It  was  difficult  to  define.  He 
talked  humbly.  His  voice  was  always  humble,  and  his 
words  too  —  but  his  eyes  were  bold.  Something  of  aggres- 
sive virility  seemed  to  meet  and  attempt  to  beat  down  that 
long-assumed  mastership  to  which  everyone  else  readily  sub- 
mitted. In  the  shop  she  was  a  man  by  courtesy  —  the  boss, 
the  cock  of  the  walk ;  and  she  was  never  made  to  remember, 
when  issuing  orders  to  the  men  who  served  her,  that  she 
was  not  really  and  truly  male. 

All  this  might  be  fancy;  but  it  made  a  slight  want  of 

38 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

ease  and  comfort  in  her  intercourse  with  Mr.  Marsden  —  a 
necessity  felt  only  with  him,  an  instinct  telling  her  that 
here  was  a  servant  who  must  be  kept  in  his  place. 

Once  or  twice,  when  she  was  examining  returns  with  him, 
his  assiduous  attention  bothered  her. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Marsden,  I  can  see  it  for  myself." 

And  there  was  a  certain  look  in  his  eyes  while  he  talked 
to  her  —  respectfully  admiring,  pensively  questioning, 
familiar, —  no,  not  to  be  analysed.  But  nevertheless  it  was 
a  look  that  she  did  not  at  all  care  about. 

The  eyes  that  he  used  so  hardily  were  of  a  lightish  brown, 
speckled  with  darker  colour;  and  above  them  the  dark  eye- 
brows grew  close  together,  making  almost  an  unbroken  line 
across  his  brow.  She  saw  or  guessed  that  his  beard  would 
be  tawny,  if  he  let  it  grow;  but  he  was  always  beauti- 
fully shaved.  High  on  his  cheeks  there  were  tiny  rus- 
set hairs,  like  down,  that  he  never  touched  with  the 
razor. 

All  through  May  China  and  Glass  did  better  and  better. 
Miss  Woolfrey,  meekly  submitting  to  fate,  worked  loyally 
under  the  new  chief.  "  If  anyone  had  to  be  put  above  me," 
said  poor  Miss  Woolfrey,  "  I'd  rather  it  was  him." 

When  a  truly  excellent  week's  returns  were  shown  in 
June,  Mrs.  Thompson  took  an  opportunity  of  praising  Mr. 
Marsden  generously.  And  again,  after  he  had  bowed  and 
expressed  his  gratification,  she  saw  the  look  that  she  did  not 
care  about. 

She  read  it  differently  now.  It  was  probably  directly 
traceable  to  the  arrogance  bred  of  youth  and  strength  — 
and  perhaps  a  fairly  full  measure  of  personal  conceit.  Al- 
though so  circumspect  with  the  other  sex,  he  had  a  reliance 
on  his  handsome  aspect.  Perhaps  unconsciously  he  was 
always  falling  back  on  this  —  because  hitherto  it  might  never 
have  failed  him. 

39 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

It  was  Enid  who  made  her  think  him  handsome.  Till 
Enid  used  the  word,  she  would  have  thought  it  too  big. 
One  morning  she  had  brought  her  daughter  to  the  China 
department  in  order  to  select  a  wedding-present  for  a  girl- 
friend. Miss  Woolfrey  was  serving  her,  but  Mr.  Marsden 
came  to  assist.  Then  Mrs.  Thompson  saw  how  he  looked 
at  Enid. 

Some  sort  of  introduction  had  been  made  — "  Enid,  my 
dear,  Mr.  Marsden  suggests  this  vase ;  "  and  the  girl  had 
immediately  transferred  her  attention  from  the  insipid  serv- 
ing woman  to  the  resourceful  serving-man.  Mr.  Marsden 
showed  her  more  and  more  things  — "  This  is  good  value. 
Two  guineas  —  if  that  is  not  beyond  your  figure.  Or  this 
is  a  quaint  notion  —  Parrots !  They  paint  them  so  natural, 
don't  they?"  And  Mrs.  Thompson  saw  the  look,  and 
winced.  With  his  eyes  on  the  girl's  face,  he  smiled  —  and 
Enid  began  to  smile,  too. 

"What  is  the  joke,  Mr.  Marsden?"     Mrs.  Thompson 
had  spoken  coldly  and  abruptly. 
"Joke?"  he  echoed. 

"  You  appear  to  be  diverted  by  the  idea  of  my  daughter's 
purchase  —  when  really  it  is  simply  a  matter  of  business." 
"  Exactly  —  but  if  I  can  save  you  time  by  — " 
"  Thank  you,  Miss  Woolfrey  is  quite  competent  to  show 
us  all  that  we  require ;  "  and  Mrs.  Thompson  turned  her 
broad  back  on  the  departmental  manager. 

Enid,  when  leaving  China  and  Glass,  glanced  behind  her, 
and  nodded  to  Mr.  Marsden. 

"  Mother,"  she  whispered,  "  how  handsome  he  is.  ... 
But  how  sharply  you  spoke  to  him.  You  quite  dropped  on 
him." 

"Well,  my  dear,  one  has  to  drop  on  people  sometimes; 
and  Mr.  Marsden  is  just  a  little  disposed  to  be  push- 
ing." 

4° 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Oh,"  said  Enid,  "  I  thought  he  was  such  a  favourite  of 
yours." 

Alone  in  her  room,  Mrs.  Thompson  felt  worried.  A 
thought  had  made  her  wince.  This  young  man  carried  about 
with  him  an  element  of  vague  danger.  Of  course  Enid 
would  never  be  foolish ;  and  he  would  never  dare  to  aspire 
to  such  a  prize;  still  Enid  should  get  her  next  wedding 
present  in  another  department  —  or  in  another  shop,  if  she 
must  have  china. 

It  was  only  a  brief  sense  of  annoyance  or  discomfort,  say 
five  minutes  lost  in  a  busy  day.  Mrs.  Thompson  dismissed 
it  from  her  mind.  But  Mr.  Marsden  brought  it  back 
again. 

Towards  closing  time,  when  she  was  signing  letters  at  the 
big  bureau,  he  came  behind  the  glass  and  entered  her  room. 

"  What  is  it?  "  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  without  looking  up. 

"  Mrs.  Thompson,  I  want  to  make  an  apology  and  a 
request." 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  she  perceptibly  started.  His 
presence  down  here  was  unusual  and  unexpected. 

"  I  have  been  making  myself  rather  unhappy  about  what 
happened  when  you  and  Miss  Thompson  were  in  my  depart- 
ment." 

"  Nothing  happened,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  decisively. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  and  I  offer  an  apology  for  my  mistake." 

"  Mr.  Marsden,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  with  dignity, 
"  there  is  not  the  slightest  occasion  for  an  apology.  Please 
don't  make  mountains  out  cf  molehills." 

"  No  —  but  I  am  in  earnest.  It  is  your  own  great  kind- 
ness that  led  me  to  forget.  And  I  confess  that  I  did  for 
a  moment  forget  the  immense  difference  of  social  station 
that  lies  between  us.  A  shopman  should  never  speak  to  his 
employer  —  much  less  his  employer's  relatives  —  in  a  tone 
implying  the  least  friendliness  or  equality." 

41 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Mr.  Marsden,  you  quite  misunderstand." 

"  You  were  angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  firmly.  "  To  be  frank,  I 
was  not  exactly  pleased  with  you  —  and  I  took  the  liberty 
of  showing  it.  That  is  a  freedom  to  which  I  am  accus- 
tomed." 

"  Then  I  humbly  apologise." 

"  I  have  told  you  it  is  unnecessary.  .  .  .  That  will 
do,  Mr.  Marsden ; "  and  she  took  up  her  pen  again. 

"  But  may  I  make  one  request  —  that  when  I  am  unfor- 
tunate enough  to  deserve  reproof,  it  may  be  administered 
privately  and  not  in  public?" 

"  Mr.  Marsden,  I  make  no  conditions.  If  people  are 
discontented  with  my  methods  —  well,  the  remedy  lies  in 
their  own  hands." 

"  Isn't  that  just  a  little  cruel  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  answer  to  your  question." 

"  I  don't  think,  ma'am,  yr  u  know  the  chivalrous  and 
devoted  feeling  that  runs  through  this  shop.  There's  not  a 
man  in  it  to  whom  your  praise  and  your  blame  don't  mean 
light  and  darkness." 

Mrs.  Thompson  flushed. 

"  Mr.  Marsden,  you  are  all  very  good  and  loyal.  I  rec- 
ognize that.  But  I  don't  care  about  compliments." 

"Compliments!  .  .  .  When  a  person  is  feeling 
almost  crushed  with  the  burden  of  gratitude — " 

"  But,  Mr.  Marsden,  gratitude  should  be  shown  and  not 
talked  about." 

"  And  I'll  show  mine  some  day,  please  God." 

Mrs.  Thompson  turned  right  round  on  her  revolving 
chair,  and  spoke  very  gently.  "  I  am  sorry  that  you  should 
have  upset  yourself  about  such  a  trifle." 

Then  Mr.  Marsden  asked  if  he  might  come  down  behind 
the  glass  for  direction  and  orders  when  he  felt  in  doubt  or 

42 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

perplexity.  A  few  words  now  and  then  would  be  helpful  to 
him. 

Mrs.  Thompson  hesitated,  and  then  answered  kindly. 

"Certainly.  Why  not?  I  am  accessible  here  to  any  of 
the  staff  —  from  Mr.  Mears  to  the  door  boy.  That  has 
always  been  a  part  of  my  system." 

After  this  the  young  man  appeared  from  time  to  time, 
craving  a  draught  of  wisdom  at  the  fountain-head.  The 
department  was  doing  well,  and  he  never  brought  bad  news. 

But  he  was  a  little  too  much  inclined  to  begin  talking 
about  himself;  telling  his  story  —  an  orphan  who  had  made 
his  own  way  in  the  world ;  describing  his  efforts  to  improve 
a  defective  education,  his  speaking  at  a  debating  society,  his 
acting  with  the  Kennington  Thespian  Troupe. 

"  Your  elocution,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  "  no  doubt  prof- 
ited by  the  pains  you  took.  .  .  .  But  now,  if  you 
please—" 

Mrs.  Thompson,  with  business-like  firmness,  stopped  all 
idle  chatter.  A  hint  was  enough  for  him,  and  he  promptly 
became  intent  on  matters  of  business. 

He  worked  hard  upstairs.  He  was  the  first  to  come  and 
the  last  to  go.  Once  or  twice  he  brought  papers  down  to 
the  dark  ground  floor  when  Mrs.  Thompson  was  toiling 
late. 

One  night  he  showed  her  the  coloured  and  beautifully 
printed  pictures  that  had  been  sent  with  the  new  season's 
lists. 

"  There.     This  is  my  choice." 

She  laid  her  hand  flat  on  a  picture ;  and  he,  pushing  about 
the  other  pictures  and  talking,  put  his  hand  against  hers. 
He  went  on  talking,  as  if  unconscious  that  he  had  touched 
her,  that  he  was  now  touching  her. 

She  moved  her  hand  away,  and  for  a  moment  an  angry 
flame  of  thought  swept  through  her  brain.  Had  it  been  an 
4  43 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

accident,  or  a  monstrous  impertinence?  He  went  on  talking 
without  a  tremour  in  his  voice;  and  she  understood  that  he 
was  absolutely  unconscious  of  what  he  had  done.  He  was 
completely  absorbed  by  consideration  of  the  coloured  prints 
of  tea  and  dinner  services. 

Mrs.  Thompson  abruptly  struck  the  desk  bell,  drew  back 
her  chair,  and  rose. 

"  Davies,"  she  called  loudly,  "  bring  your  lantern.  I  am 
going  through.  .  .  .  Don't  bother  me  any  more  about 
all  that,  Mr.  Marsden.  Make  your  own  selections  —  and 
get  them  passed  by  Mr.  Mears.  Good-night." 


Miss  ENID  had  again  taken  up  riding,  and  she  seemed 
unusually  energetic  in  her  efforts  to  acquire  a  difficult  art. 
During  this  hot  dry  weather  the  roads  were  too  hard  to 
permit  of  hacking  with  much  pleasure;  but  Enid  spent  many 
afternoons  in  Mr.  Young's  fine  riding  school.  She  was  hav- 
ing jumping  lessons;  and  she  threw  out  hints  to  Mrs. 
Thompson  that  next  autumn  she  would  be  able  not  only  to 
ride  to  meet,  but  even  to  follow  hounds. 

"  Oh,  my  darling,  I  should  never  have  a  moment's  peace 
of  mind  if  I  knew  you  were  risking  your  pretty  neck  out 
hunting." 

"  I  could  easily  get  a  good  pilot,"  said  Enid ;  "  and  then 
I  should  be  quite  safe." 

One  Thursday  afternoon  —  early-closing  day  —  Mr. 
Marsden,  who  happened  to  know  that  Enid  would  be  at  the 
school,  went  round  to  see  his  friend  Mr.  Whitehouse,  the 
riding-master.  He  looked  very  smart  in  his  blue  serge  suit, 
straw  hat,  and  brown  boots;  and  the  clerk  in  Mr.  Young's 
office  quite  thought  he  was  one  of  the  governor's  toffs  come 
to  buy  horses. 

Mr.  Marsden  sent  his  card  to  Mr.  Whitehouse ;  and  then 
waited  in  a  sloping  sanded  passage,  obviously  trodden  by  four- 
footed  as  well  as  two-footed  people,  from  which  he  could 
peep  into  the  dark  Office,  a  darker  little  dressing-room,  and 
an  open  stable  where  the  hind  quarters  of  horses  showed  in 
stalls.  There  was  a  queer  staircase  without  stairs,  and  he 
heard  a  sound  of  pawing  over  his  head  —  horses  upstairs 

45 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

as  well  as  downstairs.  The  whole  place  looked  and  smelt 
very  horsey. 

The  riding-master's  horse  was  presently  led  past  him; 
the  lesson  was  nearly  over,  and  the  young  lady  was  about  to 
take  a  few  leaps.  A  groom  told  him  that  he  might  go  in. 

The  vast  hall  had  high  and  narrow  double  doors  to  admit 
the  horses;  and  inside,  beneath  the  dirty  glass  roof,  it  was 
always  twilight,  with  strange  echoes  and  reverberations  issu- 
ing from  the  smooth  plastered  walls ;  at  a  considerable  height 
in  one  of  the  walls  there  was  a  large  window,  opening  out 
of  a  room  that  looked  like  the  royal  box  of  a  theatre. 

This  hall  had  been  the  military  school;  it  remained  as  a 
last  evidence  of  the  demolished  barracks,  and  the  town  was 
proud  of  its  noble  dimensions  —  a  building  worthy  of  the 
metropolis. 

"  How  d'ye  do,"  said  the  riding-master,  a  slim,  tall, 
elegant  young  man  in  check  breeches  and  black  boots. 
"  Come  and  stand  by  us  in  the  middle." 

There  was  another  tall  young  man,  who  wore  drab 
breeches  and  brown  gaiters  on  his  long  thin  legs,  and  who 
was  helping  a  stableman  to  drag  the  barred  hurdle  across 
the  tan  and  put  it  in  position  against  the  wall. 

"  Now,  Miss  Thompson.  .  .  .  Steady.  Steady.  Let 
her  go." 

Enid  on  a  heavily  bandaged  bay  mare  came  slowly  round, 
advanced  in  a  scrambling  canter,  and  hopped  over  the  low 
obstacle. 

"  Very  good." 

She  looked  charming  as  she  came  round  again  —  her  usu- 
ally cold  pale  face  now  warm  and  red,  a  wisp  of  her  dark 
hair  flying,  the  short  habit  showing  her  neatly  booted  legs. 

"Very  good." 

"  I  am  lost  in  admiration,"  said  Marsden;  and  the  strange 
young  man  stared  hard  at  him. 

46 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Oh,  is  that  you,  Mr.  Marsden,"  said  Enid.  "  I  didn't 
know  I  had  an  audience." 

Then  she  jumped  again.  This  time,  in  obedience  to  the 
directions  of  Mr.  Whitehouse,  she  rode  at  the  hurdle  much 
faster;  the  mare  cocked  her  ears,  charged,  and  she  and  Enid 
sailed  over  the  white  bar  in  grand  style. 

But  the  thud  of  hoofs,  the  tell-tale  reverberations  roused 
the  invisible  Mr.  Young,  and  brought  him  to  the  window 
of  the  private  box. 

"  Not  so  fast  —  not  nearly  so  fast,"  shouted  Mr.  Young. 
"There's  no  skill  or  sense  in  that.  .  .  .  Mr.  White- 
house,  I  can't  understand  you.  D'you  want  that  mare  over- 
reaching herself?"  And  Mr.  Young's  voice,  dropping  in 
tone,  still  betrayed  his  irritation.  "  Who  are  these 
gentlemen?  We  can't  have  people  in  the  school  during 
lessons." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  young  man  in  the  brown  gaiters. 
"  I've  come  to  look  at  the  new  horse  —  the  one  you 
bought  from  Griffin." 

"  Very  good,  Mr.  Kenion.  I  didn't  see  who  you  were. 
.  .  .  But  who's  the  other  gentleman  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Whitehouse. 

"  Well,  that's  against  our  rules  —  visitors  in  lessons. 
You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  I  am  quite  aware  of  your  rules,"  said  Mr.  Whitehouse 
curtly.  "  But  the  lesson  is  finished.  .  .  .  That  will 
be  sufficient,  Miss  Thompson.  Three  minutes  over  your 
hour  —  and  we  don't  want  to  tire  you." 

Mr.  Young  snorted  angrily,  and  disappeared.  The 
strange  young  man  assisted  Miss  Enid  to  dismount  and 
went  out  with  her,  the  bandaged  mare  following  them  with 
the  helper. 

"  Who,"  asked  Marsden,  "  was  that  spindle-shanked  ass?  " 

"  Oh,  he's  not  a  bad  boy,"  said  the  riding-master  patron- 

47 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

isingly.  "  And  he  can  ride,  mind  you  —  which  is  morti 
than  most  hunting  men  can." 

"Is  he  a  hunting  man?     What's  his  name?" 

"  Mr.  Kenion.  .  .  .  Look  here,  don't  hurry  off.  I 
want  to  have  a  yarn  with  you." 

"But  Mr.  Young— " 

"  Oh,  blast  Mr.  Young.  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  my  boy, 
about  the  ladies." 

"Do  you?"  Marsden  half  closed  his  eyes,  and  showed 
his  strong  teeth  in  a  lazy  smile.  "  What  do  you  think  of 
our  young  lady?  " 

"Miss  Thompson?"  Mr.  Whitehouse  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "  Oh,  not  bad." 

Then  long  thin  Mr.  Kenion  returned. 

"  Let's  try  the  new  crock  over  your  sticks,"  said  Mr. 
Kenion  languidly.  "  I  suppose  he  is  a  crock  —  or  he 
wouldn't  be  here  ?  " 

"  I  won't  bias  your  judgment,"  said  Mr.  Whitehouse  as 
he  strolled  across  the  tan.  "  See  for  yourself,"  and  he  rang 
a  noisy  bell.  "  But  I  must  make  you  known  to  each  other ;  " 
and  he  introduced  Mr.  Marsden  as  "  one  of  the  managers 
at  Thompson's." 

Mr.  Young's  new  purchase  was  brought  in,  and  Mr. 
Kenion  rode  it.  The  horse  at  first  appeared  to  resent  the 
silly  jumping  performance;  but  Marsden  heard  the  work  of 
the  rider's  unspurred  heels  on  the  animal's  flanks,  watched 
the  effective  use  Mr.  Whitehouse  made  of  his  whip  as  he 
ran  behind,  and  soon  saw  the  hurdle  negotiated  in  flying 
fashion,  again  and  again  —  and  faster  and  faster. 

"Not  so  fast!  God  bless  my  soul,  I  think  you  must  all 
be  mad  this  afternoon."  Old  Young  had  come  to  his  win- 
dow, furious.  "  Mr.  Kenion,  I'm  surprised  at  you,  yes,  I 
am,  sir." 

"  How  can  I  judge  of  a  horse  without  trying  him?  " 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  my  horses  tried  like  that.  You 
may  buy  'em  or  leave  'em." 

"  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Kenion,  laughing.  "  Come  out 
and  have  a  drink.  You've  stood  me  a  ride,  and  I'll  stand 
you  a  drink." 

Mr.  Kenion,  Mr.  Young,  and  the  jumping  horse  all  dis- 
appeared, and  Marsden  and  the  riding-master  were  left  to- 
gether on  the  tan.  Here,  in  the  dim  twilight  that  the  glass 
roof  made  of  this  bright  June  day,  they  had  a  long  quiet 
chat  about  women. 

"  Dicky,"  said  the  riding-master,  "  I'm  going  to  talk  to 
you  like  a  Dutch  uncle." 

"  Fire  away." 

"All  for  your  own  good.  See?  .  .  .  Now  I  suppose 
when  you  want  a  mash,  you  don't  think  of  looking  outside 
the  shop." 

"  I  never  have  a  mash  inside  it." 

"Is  that  so?"  Mr.  Whitehouse  seemed  astonished. 
"  Why,  I  thought  3^ou  smart  managers  with  all  those  shop 
girls  round  you  were  like  so  many  grand  Turks  with  their 
serrallyhos." 

"  Not  much.  That's  against  etiquette  —  and  a  fool's 
game  into  the  bargain.  You're  safe  to  be  pinched  —  and, 
second,  you  get  so  jolly  sick  of  being  mewed  up  with  'em 
all  day  that  you  never  want  to  speak  to  'em  out  of  hours." 

"  Then  how  do  you  get  along?     The  customers?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Marsden ;  and  he  stroked  his  moustache,  and 
smiled.  "  Customers  are  often  very  kind." 

"Not  real  ladies?" 

"  We  don't  ask  their  pedigrees.  Go  down  St.  Saviour's 
Court  any  fine  evening,  and  see  the  domestic  servants  wiit- 
ing  in  their  best  clothes.  It'll  remind  you  of  Piccadilly 
Circus ;  "  and  both  gentlemen  laughed. 

"  There's  a  parlourmaid,"  continued  Marsden,  "  out  of 

49 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Adelaide  Crescent  —  who  is  simply  a  little  lump  of  all 
right.  Venetian  red  hair  —  a  picture." 

"Red  hair,"  said  Mr.  Whitehouse  reflectively.  "They 
say  with  us,  a  good  horse  has  no  colour.  That  means,  if 
the  horse  is  a  good  'un,  never  mind  his  colour ;  —  and  I 
suppose  it's  true  of  women.  .  .  .  I  don't  object  to 
chestnut  horses  —  or  red-haired  gells.  .  .  .  But,  look 
here,  Master  Dick,  I  tell  you  frank,  you're  wasting  your 
opportunities." 

"  You  can't  teach  me  anything,  old  man." 

"  Can't  I  ?  Never  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  a  friendly  tip  — 
a  chance  tip  may  alter  a  man's  life.  That's  a  motto  with 
me  —  and  I'm  acting  on  it  this  moment,  myself." 

Then  Mr.  Whitehouse  told  his  friend  that  he  was  about 
to  leave  Mallingbridge  forever.  Mallingbridge  was  too 
small;  he  intended  to  throw  himself  into  the  larger  world 
of  London.  He  had  very  nearly  fixed  up  an  engagement 
with  the  big  Bayswater  people;  it  was  practically  a  settled 
thing. 

"  That's  why  I  checked  the  old  bloke  like  I  done  just 
now.  Mr.  Young  he  twigs  there's  something  up;  but  he 
doesn't  know  what's  in  store  for  him.  The  minute  I've 
got  my  job  definite,  I  shall  open  my  chest  to  him  —  tell 
him  once  for  all  what  I  think  of  him.  'E  won't  forget  it;  " 
and  the  riding-master  laughed  confidently. 

"  I'm  sorry  you're  going." 

"  Thanks.  But  why  am  I  lighting  out  so  determined 
and  sudden,  instead  of  vegetating  here  half  me  life?  Well 

—  because  I  got  a  straight  tip,  and  all  by  chance." 
"How  was  tnat?" 

'  About  a  month  ago  a  chap  comes  in  here  with  a  lady 
for  a  lesson.  Captain  Mellish  —  Meller  —  I  forget  the 
name.  Anyhow,  he  was  a  son  of  a  gun  of  a  swell  to  look  at 

—  sploshing  it  about  up  at  the  Dolphin;  and  he  brings  in 

50 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

this  actress  from  the  theatre  —  not  a  chorus  gell,  mind 
you,  but  the  leading  performer  —  who  was  drawing  her 
hundred  quid  a  week,  so  they  said.  Well,  he  evidently 
fancied  he  was  a  bit  of  a  horseman  himself,  ana  he  keeps 
chipping  in.  When  I  told  her  to  get  her  hands  back,  and 
hold  her  reins  long,  he  says,  '  yes,  but  you'll  want  to  hold 
a  horse  shorter  by  the  head,  if  he  balks  at  his  fences.'  I 
answered  without  hesitation,  *  I'm  very  well  aware  of  re- 
fusing horses,'  I  said,  '  and  also  how  easy  it  is  to  hang  on 
by  a  horse's  mouth  when  you  land  over  a  fence.  .  .  . 
But,'  I  said,  '  let  me  know  who  is  giving  the  lesson  —  you 
or  me.  Wait,  miss,'  I  caid,  e  if  the  Captain  has  other  direc- 
tions to  give  you.'  She  rounded  on  him  at  once,  asking 
him  to  shut  his  head.  He  turned  it  off  with  a  laugh,  and 
gave  me  a  slap  on  the  back.  *  Have  it  your  own  way,  Mr. 
Riding-Master.'  You'll  understand,  he  said  that  sneering. 

"  But  I  believe  he  thought  the  more  of  me  before  the 
lesson  was  over.  Anyhow,  when  his  tart  had  gone  to  the 
dressing-room  to  change  her  things,  he  and  I  got  yarning 
here  —  exactly  as  if  it  had  been  you  and  me  —  like  we're 
doing  now. 

"  Mind  you,  he  was  a  wrong  'un.  You  couldn't  talk 
friendly  to  him  without  twigging  that.  But,  Holy  Moses, 
he  was  fairly  up  to  snuff.  .  .  .  We  went  yarning  on, 
and  presently  he  says,  '  It  beats  me  why  a  knowledgeable 
young  chap  like  you  should  bury  himself  as  a  mere  servant. 
Take  my  tip,'  he  says,  '  Get  hold  of  a  bit  of  money,  and 
light  out  on  your  own  '  .  .  .  *  And  how  am  I  to  get  the 
money  ?  '  I  asked  him. 

1 '  Get  it  from  the  ladies,'  he  says.  '  Take  my  tip.  I 
suppose  you  make  love  to  all  your  pupils  —  you  fellows 
always  do.  Well,  make  'em  pay.'  I'm  giving  you  what 
he  said,  word  for  word.  *  You're  wasting  yourself,'  he 
says.  '  See  ?  You're  only  young  once.  You've  got  some- 

51 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

thing  to  bring  to  market,  and  you're  letting  it  go  stale  every 
hour.' 

"Then  he  run  on  about  what  women  can  do  for  a  man 
nowadays  —  and  he  knew,  mind  you.  He'd  been  there. 
Who  makes  the  members  of  parliament,  the  bishops,  the 
prime  ministers?  Why,  women.  Leave  them  out  of  your 
plans  —  if  your  want  to  labour  in  the  sweat  of  your  brow 
till  you  drop.  But  if  not,  take  the  tip.  It's  the  women 
that  give  a  man  his  short-cut  to  ease  and  comfort.  See?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Marsden.  "  I  see  that  —  but  I  don't 
see  anything  new  in  it." 

"  Dicky,"  said  Mr.  Whitehouso  solemnly,  "  it's  a 
straight  tip.  .  .  .  But  you'll  never  profit  by  it,  my 
boy,  until  you  stop  messing  about  with  your  dressed-up 
slaveys,  and  light  out  for  somethiii,.;  bigger." 

"  I  have  told  you,"  said  Marsden,  smiling,  "  that  you 
can't  teach  me  anything." 

"  You're  too  cock-sure,"  said  Mr.  Whitehouse,  almost 
sadly;  "but  you're  just  wasting  yourself.  .  .  .  Here's 
the  tip  of  a  life- time.  I've  thought  it  all  out,  and  I  see  my 
own  line  clear.  Drop  the  gells  —  and  go  for  the  matrons. 
Pick  your  chance,  and  go  for  it  hammer  and  tongs.  .  .  . 
It's  what  I  shall  do  meself.  Bayswater  is  full  of  rich 
Jewesses  —  some  of  'em  fairly  wallowing  in  it.  And  I 
shan't  try  to  grab  some  budding  beauty.  I  shall  pick  a  ripe 
flower." 

"  I  wish  you  luck." 

"  Same  to  you,  old  pal.  But  you  won't  find  it  the  way 
you're  trying  just  now;"  and  Mr.  Whitehouse  laughed 
enigmatically.  "  I  can't  teach  you  anything,  but  I  can 
give  you  a  parting  warning.  .  .  .  D'you  think  I  don't 
twig  what  you  were  aftc  -  to-day  —  wanting  to  see  me 
especial  —  and  coming  round  here, —  and  losing  yourself 
in  admiration  of  Miss  Thompson?  And  I  don't  say  you 

52 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

mightn't  have  pulled  it  off,  if  you'd  started  a  bit  earlier. 
But  you're  too  late.  Mr.  Kenion  has  got  there  first." 

"  Is  that  true  —  bar  larks?  " 

"  You  may  bet  your  boots  on  it.  He's  here  every  time 
she  comes.  After  the  lessons  he  sees  her  home  —  by  a 
round-about  way.  The  only  reason  he  didn't  go  with  her 
this  afternoon  is  because  the  shop  is  shut,  and  they're  afraid 
of  meeting  the  old  lady.  .  .  .  No,  my  little  boy,  your 
Miss  Enid  is  booked." 


VI 

ENID  was  away  again,  staying  for  a  few  days  with  some 
friends  or  friends  of  the  Salters;  and  during  her  absence 
her  mother  suffered  from  an  unusual  depression  of  spirits. 
In  the  shop  it  was  noticed  that  Mrs.  Thompson  seemed,  if 
not  irritable,  at  least  rather  difficult  to  please;  but  all  under- 
stood that  she  felt  lonely  while  deprived  of  the  young 
woman's  society,  and  all  sympathised  with  her.  Assistants, 
who  happened  to  meet  her  after  closing  time,  taking  a  soli- 
tary walk  outside  the  boundaries  of  the  town,  were  espe- 
cially sympathetic,  and  perhaps  ventured  to  think  that 
fashionable  Miss  Enid  left  her  too  much  alone. 

One  evening  after  a  blazing  airless  day,  Dick  Marsden, 
very  carefully  dressed  in  his  neat  blue  serge,  with  his  straw 
hat  jauntily  cocked,  came  swaggering  through  St.  Saviour's 
Court,  and  attracted,  as  he  passed,  many  feminine  glances 
of  admiration.  The  pretty  housemaid  from  Adelaide 
Crescent  ogled  and  languished;  but  he  merely  bowed  and 
passed  by.  He  could  not  waste  his  time  with  her  to-night. 
There  was  bigger  game  on  foot. 

At  the  bottom  of  Frederick  Street  he  hurried  down  the 
walled  passage  that  leads  to  the  railway  embankment;  thence 
through  the  vaultlike  tunnel  under  the  line,  past  the  gas- 
works; over  the  iron  bridge  that  spans  the  black  water  of 
the  canal,  and  out  into  the  open  meadows. 

These  meadow's,  a  broad  flat  between  the  canal  and  the 
river,  belonged  to  the  railway  company;  and  almost  every 
gate  and  post  reminded  one  of  their  legal  owners.  Notices 
in  metal  frames  somewhat  churlishly  announced  that,  "  This 

54 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

gate  will  be  closed  and  locked  on  one  day  in  each  year  " ; 
"  There  13  no  right  of  way  here  " ;  "  The  public,  who  are 
only  admitted  as  visitors,  will  kindly  act  as  visitors  and 
refraLi  from  damage,  or  the  privilege  will  be  withdrawn." 
Tha  public,  enjoying  the  privilege  freely  but  not  arrogantly, 
ranged  about  the  pk.:sant  fields,  played  foot-ball  in  winter, 
pic'Vd,  buttercups  and  daisies  in  spring,  and  even  provided 
tfejselvcs  with  Corporation  seats  —  to  be  removed  at  a 
moment's  notice  if  the  Corporation  should  be  bidden  to 
remove  them.  On  warm  summer  evenings  like  this,  the 
public  were  principally  represented  by  lovers  strolling  in 
linked  pairs,  looking  into  each  other's  eyes,  and  making  of 
the  railway  fklds  a  road  through  dreamland  to  paradise. 

Marsden  walked  swiftly  across  the  parched  grass,  moving 
with  strong  I^JU  tread,  and  gazing  here  and  there  with 
clear  keen  vTJ^IT.  As  he  moved  thus  lightly  and  swiftly, 
looking  so  strong  and  yet  so  agile,  he  seemed  a  personifica- 
tion of  masculine  youth  and  vigour,  the  coarse  male  animal 
in  its  pride  of  brutal  health.  Or,  if  one  merely  noticed 
the  catlike  tread,  so  springy  and  easy  :n  its  muscular 
power,  he  might  suggest  the  graceful  yet  fieice  beast  of  prey 
who  paces  through  failing  sunlight  and  falling  shadows 
in  search  of  the  inoffensive  creature  that  he  will  surely 
destroy. 

A  solitary  figure  moving  slowly  between  the  trees  by  the 
river  —  Mr.  Marsden  hurried  on. 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Thompson  "  —  He  took  off  his 
hat,  and  bowed  very  respectfully. 

"Oh!     Good  evening,  Mr.  Marsden." 

"  You  don't  often  come  this  way?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  rather  stiffly.  "  It 
is  a  favourite  walk  of  mine." 

"  I  venture  to  applaud  your  taste."  And  he  pointed  in 
the  direction  of  th?  town.  "  Old  Mallingbridge  looks  quite 

55 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

romantic    from    along    here.     .     .     .     But    the    gas-works 
spoil  the  picture,  don't  they?" 

The  town  looked  pretty  enough  in  the  mellow  evening 
glow.  Beyond  the  railway  embankment,  where  signal  lamps 
began  to  show  as  spots  of  faint  red  and  green,  the  clustered 
roofs  mingled  into  solid  sharp-edged  masses,  and  the  two 
church  towers  appeared  strangely  high  and  ponderous 
against  the  infinitely  pure  depths  of  a  cloudless  sky.  Soon 
a  soft  greyness  would  rise  from  the  horizon;  indistinctness, 
vagueness,  mystery  would  creep  over  the  town  and  the 
fields,  blotting  out  the  ugly  gas-works,  hiding  the  common 
works  of  men,  giving  the  world  back  to  nature;  but  there 
would  be  no  real  night.  In  these,  the  longest  days  of  the 
year,  the  light  never  quite  died. 

The  colour  of  her  blue  dress  and  of  the  pink  roses  in  her 
toque  was  clearly  visible,  as  Mrs.  Thompson  and  the  young 
man  walked  on  side  by  side.  For  a  minute  she  politely 
made  conversation. 

"  I  have  often  wondered,"  she  said,  with  brisk  business- 
like tones,  "  what  use  the  railway  company  will  eventually 
make  of  all  this  land." 

"Ah!     I  wonder." 

"  They  would  not  have  bought  it  unless  they  had  some 
remote  object  in  view;  and  they  would  not  have  held  it  if 
the  object  had  vanished.  Sensible  people  don't  keep  two 
hundred  acres  of  land  lying  idle  unless  they  have  a  purpose.'* 

"  No." 

"  It  has  often  occurred  to  me  —  from  what  I  have  heard 
—  that  they  will  one  day  convert  it  into  some  sort  of  depot* 
There  is  nothing  in  the  levels  to  prevent  their  doing  so.. 
The  embankment  is  no  height." 

"  I  should  think  you  have  made  a  very  shrewd  guess." 

"  If  that  were  to  happen,  the  question  would  arise,  Will. 
it  prove  an  injury  or  a  benefit  to  the  town  ?  " 

56 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Then  Mrs.  Thompson  ceased  to  make  conversation;  her 
manner  became  very  dignified  and  reserved;  and  she  carried 
herself  stiffly  —  perhaps  wishing  to  indicate  by  the  slight 
change  of  deportment  that  the  interview  was  now  at  an 
end. 

But  Marsden  did  not  take  the  hint.  He  walked  by  her 
side,  and  soon  began  to  talk  about  himself.  An  effort  was 
made  to  check  him  when  he  entered  on  the  subject  of  the 
great  benefits  that  a  kind  hand  had  showered  upon  him,  but 
presently  Mrs.  Thompson  was  listening  without  remon- 
strance to  his  voice.  And  her  own  voice,  when  in  turn  she 
spoke,  was  curiously  soft  and  gentle. 

"  As  this  chance  has  come,"  he  said  humbly,  "  I  avail 
myself  of  it.  Though  I  could  never  thank  you  suffi- 
ciently, I  have  been  longing  for  an  opportunity  to  thank 
you  somehow  for  the  confidence  you  have  reposed  in  me." 

"  I'm  sure  you'll  justify  it,  Mr.  Marsden." 

"  I  don't  know.  I'm  afraid  you'll  think  not  —  when  you 
hear  the  dreadful  confession  that  I  have  to  make." 

Mrs.  Thompson  drew  in  her  breath,  and  stopped  short 
en  the  footpath. 

"  Mr.  Marsden  "•—  she  spoke  quite  gently  i*nd  kindly  — 
"  You  really  must  not  tell  me  about  your  private  affairs. 
Unless  your  confession  concerns  business  matters  —  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  shop  —  I  cannot  listen  to  it." 

"  Oh,  it  only  amounts  to  this  —  but  I  know  it  will  sound 
ungrateful  .  .  .  Mrs.  Thompson,  in  spite  of  every- 
thing, of  all  you  have  done  for  me,  I  am  not  very  happy 
down  here." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  She  had  drawn  in  her  breath  again,  and 
she  walked  on  while  she  spoke.  "  Does  that  mean  that  you 
are  thinking  of  leaving  us?  " 

"  Yes,  I  sometimes  think  of  that." 

"To  better  yourself?" 

57 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Oh,  no  —  I  should  never  find  such  another  situation." 

"  Then  why  are  you  discontented  in  this  one  ?  " 

With  the  permission  conveyed  by  her  question,  he  de- 
scribed at  length  his  queer  state  of  mind  —  a  man  on  whom 
fortune  had  smiled,  a  man  with  work  that  he  liked,  yet 
feeling  restless  and  unhappy,  feeling  alone  in  the  midst  of  a 
crowd,  longing  for  sympathy,  yearning  for  companionship. 

"  That's  how  I  feel,"  he  said  sadly,  after  a  long  ex- 
planation. 

Mrs.  Thompson  had  been  looking  away  from  him,  staring 
across  the  river.  She  held  herself  rigidly  erect,  and  she 
spoke  now  in  another  voice,  with  a  tone  of  hardness  and 
coldness. 

"  I  think  I  recognize  the  symptoms,  Mr.  Marsden. 
When  a  young  man  talks  like  this,  the  riddle  is  easy  to 
guess." 

"  Then  guess  it." 

"  Well,"  she  said  coldly,  "  you  force  me  to  the  only 
supposition.  You  are  telling  me  that  you  have  fallen  in 
love." 

"  Yes." 

She  winced  almost  as  if  he  had  struck  her;  and  then 
the  parted  lips  closed,  her  whole  face  assumed  a  stonelike 
dignity. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  Mr.  Marsden  —  since  you  seem 
to  wish  to." 

"  Love  is  a  great  crisis  in  a  man's  life.  It  generally 
makes  him  or  breaks  him  forever." 

"  I  hope  that  fate  will  read  kindly  —  in  your  case." 

"  He  either  fears  his  fate  too  much  or  his  deserts  are 
small  —  But,  Mrs.  Thompson,  I  do  fear  my  fate.  It  isn't 
plain-sailing  for  me.  There  are  difficulties,  barriers  —  it's 
all  darkness  before  me." 

"  I  hope  you  haven't  made  an  injudicious  choice." 

58 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Yes,  I  have  —  in  one  way.  Shall  we  sit  down  here  ? 
It  is  still  very  warm." 

It  was  as  though  the  heated  earth  panted  for  breath;  no 
evening  breeze  stirred  the  leaves;  the  air  was  heavy  and 
languorous.  Mrs.  Thompson  seemed  glad  to  sit  upon  the 
Corporation  bench.  She  sank  down  wearily,  leaned  her 
back  against  the  wooden  support,  and  stared  at  the  darkly 
flowing  water. 

"  So  difficult,"  he  murmured.  "  So  many  difficulties." 
He  looked  behind  him  at  the  empty  meadows,  and  up  and 
down  the  empty  path.  Then  he  took  off  his  hat,  laid  it  on 
the  seat  beside  him;  and,  bringing  a  silk  handkerchief  from 
his  sleeve,  wiped  his  forehead.  "  There  are  almost  insur- 
mountable barriers  between  us." 

"  Have  you  given  your  heart  to  some  married  woman  ? 
Is  she  not  free  to  respond  to  your  affections  ?  " 

"  No,  she  was  married,  but  she's  free  now.  .  .  .  And 
I  think  it  amuses  her  to  encourage  me  —  and  make  me 
suffer."  He  had  taken  one  of  the  hands  that  lay  listlessly 
in  the  wide  lap.  "  She  is  you." 

Mrs.  Thompson  snatched  her  hand  away,  sprang  up  from 
the  seat,  and  spoke  indignantly. 

"Mr.  Marsden,  have  you  gone  out  of  your  senses?" 

"Yes,  I  think  I  have.  And  who's  to  blame?  Who's 
driven  me  out  of  them?"  He  was  standing  close  in  front 
of  her,  barring  the  path.  "  Oh,  I  can't  go  on  with  all  this 
deception.  I  lied  to  you  just  now.  I  knew  you  were 
coming  here, —  and  I  followed  you.  I  felt  I  must  once  for 
all  be  with  you  alone." 

"  Not  another  word.     I  will  not  listen.     .     .     .     Oh !  " 

Suddenly  he  had  seized  her.  Roughly  and  fiercely  he 
flung  his  arms  round  her,  forced  her  to  him,  and  kissed  her. 

"Mr.  Marsden!  .  .  .  Shame!  .  .  .  How  dare 
you?  .  .  .  Let  me  go." 

5  59 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

She  was  struggling  in  his  arms,  her  head  down,  her  two 
hands  trying  to  keep  him  off.  Her  broad  bosom  panted, 
her  big  shoulders  heaved;  but  with  remorseless  brutal  use 
of  his  strength  he  held  her  tightly  and  closely  against  him. 

"There,"  he  said.  "Don't  fight.  You'll  have  to  go 
through  it  now.  .  .  .  You  women  think  you  can  play 
the  fool  with  a  man  —  set  all  his  blood  on  fire,  and  then 
tell  him  to  behave  himself." 

"  Mr.  Marsden,  let  me  go  —  or  I  shall  die  of  shame." 

"No  you  won't.  Rot.  D'you  hear?  Rot.  You're  a 
woman  all  through :  and  that  face  was  made  to  be  kissed  — 
like  this  —  like  this.  .  .  .  There,  this  is  my  hour  — " 

"Will  you  let  me  go?" 

"  Yes,  in  a  minute.  .  .  .  You'll  dismiss  me  to-mor- 
row, won't  you?  I'd  better  pack  to-night.  But  I  shall 
always  go  on  loving  you.  .  .  .  Oh,  my  goodness,  what 
is  my  life  to  be  without  you  ?  " 

And  suddenly  he  released  her,  dropped  upon  the  seat, 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

She  walked  fast  away  —  and  then  slowly  returned.  He 
was  still  sitting,  with  his  head  down,  motionless. 

"  Mr.  Marsden !  .  .  .  You  have  insulted  me  in  the 
most  outrageous  manner  —  and  the  only  possible  excuse 
would  be  the  absolute  sincerity  of  the  feelings  that  you  have 
expressed  so  brutally.  If  I  could  for  a  moment  believe  — " 

"Why  can't  you  believe?" 

"  Because  it  is  too  absurd.  I  am  no  longer  young  — » 
the  mother  of  a  girl  old  enough  herself  to  marry." 

"  I  don't  want  any  pasty-faced  girls.     I  want  you" 

He  spoke  without  looking  up  at  her,  and  his  face  re- 
mained hidden  by  his  hands. 

"  If  I  sit  down  and  talk  to  you  quietly,  will  you  promise 
that  you  won't  begin  again  ?  " 

"Yes." 

60 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  You  give  me  your  word  of  honour  that  you  won't  — 
won't  touch  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said  dejectedly,  "  I  promise." 

"  When  you  began  just  now,  you,  implied  —  you  accused 
me  as  if  you  thought  I  had  been  —  encouraging  you.  But, 
Mr.  Marsden,  you  must  know  that  such  an  accusation  is 
unjust  and  untrue." 

"Is  it?  I  don't  think  you  women  much  care  how  you 
lead  people  on." 

"  But  indeed  I  do  care.  I  should  be  bitterly  ashamed  of 
myself  if  I  was  not  certain  that  I  had  never  given  you  the 
slightest  encouragement." 

"Oh,  never  mind.  What  does  it  matter?  I  have  made 
a  fool  of  myself  —  that's  all.  Love  blinds  a  man  to  plain 
facts." 

He  had  raised  his  head  again,  and  was  looking  at  her. 
They  sat  side  by  side,  and  the  dusk  began  to  envelope  them 
so  that  their  faces  were  white  and  vague. 

"  At  the  first,"  he  went  on,  "  I  could  see  that  it  was 
hopeless.  If  social  position  didn't  interfere,  the  money 
would  prove  a  barrier  there'd  be  no  getting  round.  You 
are  rich,  and  I  am  poor.  At  the  first  I  saw  how  unhappy 
it  was  going  to  make  me.  I  saw  it  was  hopeless  —  most 
of  all,  because  I'm  not  a  man  who  could  consent  to  pose  as 
the  pensioner  of  a  rich  wife.  .  .  .  But  then  I  forgot 
—  and  I  began  to  hope.  Yes,  I  did  really  hope." 

"  What  is  it  you  hoped  for?  " 

"  Why,  that  chance  would  turn  up  lucky  —  that  somehow 
I  might  be  put  more  on  an  equality.  Or  that  you  would 
marry  me  in  spite  of  all  —  that  you'd  come  to  think  money 
isn't  everything  in  this  world,  and  love  counts  most  of  all." 

"  But,  Mr.  Marsden,  how  can  I  for  one  moment  of  time 
credit  you  with  —  with  the  love  you  will  go  on  talking 
about?" 

61 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Haven't  I  shown  it  to  you?  " 

"  I  think  —  I  am  quite  sure  you  are  deceiving  your- 
self. But  nothing  can  deceive  me.  You  mistake  the 
chivalrous  romantic  feelings  of  youth  for  something  far 
different." 

"  No,  I  don't  mistake." 

"  The  disparity  in  our  years  renders  such  a  thing  im- 
possible. Between  you  and  me,  love  —  the  real  love  —  is 
out  of  the  question." 

"  Yes,  you  can  say  that  easily  —  because  no  doubt  it's 
true  on  your  side.  If  you  felt  for  me  what  I  feel  for  you 
—  then  it  would  be  another  story." 

"  But  suppose  I  had  been  foolish  enough  to  be  taken  with 
you,  to  let  myself  be  carried  away  by  your  eloquence  — 
which  I  believe  was  all  acting!  " 

"Acting?     That's  good  —  that's  devilish  good." 

"  I  say,  suppose  I  had  believed  you  —  and  yielded  one 
day,  don't  you  know  very  well  that  all  the  world  would 
laugh  at  me?  " 

"Why?" 

"Why  —  because,  my  dear  boy,  I'm  almost  old  enough 
to  be  your  mother  —  and  I  have  done  with  love,  and  all  that: 
sort  of  thing." 

"  No,  you  haven't.  You're  just  ripe  for  love  —  I  felt: 
that  when  I  was  kissing  you." 

Mrs.  Thompson  rose  abruptly. 

"I  must  go  home.  .  .  .  Come;"  and  they  walked 
side  by  side  through  the  summer  dusk  towards  the  lamp- 
light of  the  town. 

"This  must  never  be  spoken  of  again,"  she  said  firmly; 
and  before  they  reached  the  last  field  gate,  she  had  told  him 
many  times  that  her  rejection  of  his  suit  was  final  and 
irrevocable.  Hers  was  a  flat  deliberate  refusal,  and  nothing 
could  ever  modify  it. 

62 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Yes/'  he  said  sadly,  "  it's  hopeless.  I  knew  it  all  along, 
in  my  secret  heart  —  quite  hopeless." 

But  she  told  him  that  if  he  promised  never  to  think  of 
it  again,  she  would  allow  him  to  remain  in  the  shop. 

"  Frankly,  I  would  much  rather  you  should  go  —  But 
that  would  be  a  pity.  It  might  break  your  career  —  or  at 
least  throw  you  too  much  on  your  own  resources  at  a 
critical  point.  Stay  —  at  any  rate  until  you  get  a  suitable 
opening." 

"  Your  word  is  my  law." 

"  Now  leave  me.  I  do  not  wfsh  anyone  to  see  us  walking 
together." 

He  obeyed  her;  and  she  walked  on  without  an  escort, 
through  the  dark  tunnel  and  into  the  lamp-light  of  Frederick 
Street. 


VII 

*'  You  must  'a  been  a  tremendous  long  walk,"  said  Yates; 
"  but  you're  looking  all  the  better  for  it,  ma'am  —  though 
you  aren't  brought  back  an  appetite." 

Mrs.  Thompson  was  trifling  with  her  supper  —  only  pre- 
tending to  eat.  The  electric  light,  shining  on  her  hair, 
made  the  rounded  coils  and  central  mass  bright,  smooth, 
and  glossy;  the  colour  in  her  cheeks  glowed  vividly  and 
faded  quickly,  and,  as  it  came  and  went,  the  whole  face 
seemed  softened  and  yet  unusually  animated;  the  parted 
lips  were  slightly  tremulous,  and  the  eyes,  with  distended 
pupils,  were-  darker  and  larger  than  they  had  been  in  the 
daylight.  By  a  queer  chance  the  old  servant  began  to 
speak  of  her  mistress's  personal  appearance. 

"  Yes,"  said  Yates,  "  it's  the  fresh  air  you  want. —  Stands 
to  reason  you  do,  shut  up  in  the  shop  all  day.  You  look 
another  woman  to  what  you  did  when  you  went  out ;  "  and 
she  studied  Mrs.  Thompson's  face  critically  and  admiringly. 

Mrs.  Thompson  smiled,  and  her  lips  were  quite  tremulous. 

"Another  woman,  Yates?  What  sort  of  woman  do  I 
look  like  now?" 

"  A  very  handsome  one,"  said  Yates  affectionately. 
"  And  more  like  the  girl  Mr.  Thompson  led  up  the  stairs 
such  a  long  time  ago  —  the  first  time  I  ever  set  eyes  on  her, 
and  was  thinking  however  she  and  I  would  get  on  together." 

"We've  got  on  well  together,  haven't  we,  Yates?" 

"  That  we  have,"  said  Yates,  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Yates,  don't  stare  so ;  "  and  Mrs.  Thompson  laughed. 
"  You  make  me  nervous.  And  I  don't  want  you  to  flatter 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

me.  .  .  .  But  tell  me,  candidly,  supposing  you  met  me 
now  as  a  stranger  —  how  old  would  you  guess  I  was  ?  " 

Yates,  with  her  head  slightly  on  one  side,  scrutinized  her 
mistress  very  critically. 

"  Why,  I  don't  believe  that  anyone  seeing  you  as  I  do 
now  would  take  you  for  more  than  forty-two  —  at  the  out- 
side." 

"  Forty- two !  Three  years  less  than  my  real  age.  Thank 
you  for  nothing,  Yates."  Mrs.  Thompson  laughed,  but 
with  little  merriment  in  her  laugh.  "  You  haven't  joined 
my  band  of  flatterers.  You  have  given  me  an  honest 
answer." 

Perhaps,  if  some  faint  doubt  was  lingering  in  Mrs. 
Thompson's  mind,  Yates  had  provided  an  answer  to  that  as 
well  as  to  the  direct  question. 

The  mistress  did  not  invite  the  servant  to  sit  at  table  this 
evening  and  help  her  through  the  lonely  meal.  Her 
thoughts  were  sufficient  company. 

At  night  she  could  not  sleep.  The  contact  with  the 
fierce  strong  male  had  completely  upset  her  —  never  in  all 
her  life  had  she  been  so  handled  by  a  man.  And  the  ex- 
tent of  the  contact  seemed  mysteriously  to  have  multiplied 
the  effect  of  its  local  violences;  the  dreaded  grip  of  the 
powerful  arms,  the  resistless  pressure  of  the  forcing  hands, 
and  the  cruel  hot  print  of  his  kisses  were  the  salient  facts 
in  her  memory  of  the  embrace ;  but  it  seemed  that  from  every 
point  of  the  surface  of  her  body  while  compelled  to  touch 
him  a  nerve  thrill  had  been  sent  vibrating  in  her  brain,  and 
the  diffused  nerve-messages,  concentrating  there,  had  pro- 
duced overwhelmingly  intense  disturbance. 

And  memory  gave  her  back  these  sensations  —  the  wide 
thrilling  wave  from  surface  to  brain,  and  the  explosion  of 
the  central  nerve-storm  flashing  its  rapid  recognition  back 

65 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

to  the  outer  boundaries.  Lying  in  her  dark  room  she  lived 
through  the  experience  again  —  was  forced  to  suffer  the 
embrace  not  once  but  again  and  again. 

It  was  dreadful  that  a  man,  sir.  A,ly  by  reason  of  his  sex, 
should  have  this  power,  drcadfi.l  that  he  should  abuse 
his  power  in  thus  treating  a  woman, —  and  most  dreadful 
that  of  all  women  in  the  world  the  woman  should  be  her- 
self. 

And  she  thought  of  the  late  Mr.  Thompson's  timid  and 
maladroit  caresses  —  inspired,  monotonous,  stereotyped  en- 
dearments, totally  devoid  of  nervous  excitation,  dutifully 
borne  by  her,  day  after  day,  month  after  month,  throughout 
the  long  years. 

But  memory,  doing  its  faithful  and  accurate  work,  failed 
to  restore  to  her  that  glow  of  angry  protest,  that  recoil  of 
outraged  dignity  which  she  had  felt  when  the  young  man 
took  her  in  his  arms.  She  could  feel  his  arms  about  her 
still,  but  the  sense  of  shame  had  gone. 

Here  in  the  darkened  room  she  could  see  him  —  she  could 
not  help  seeing  him.  Hot  tears  filled  her  eyes,  she  writhed 
and  twisted,  she  tossed  and  turned,  as  the  mental  pictures 
came  and  went;  but  nothing  could  drive  him  away.  He 
had  taken  possession  of  her  thoughts;  and  she  wept  because 
she  understood  that  he  had  not  achieved  this  tyrannous  rule 
to-day,  or  yesterday,  but  a  long  time  ago,  a  disgracefully 
long  time  ago.  In  imagination  she  was  watching  him 
among  the  china  and  glass,  when  Woolfrey  and  the  others 
showed  her  plainly  how  dangerous  he  really  was  —  and  it 
had  begun  then.  Why  else  should  she  have  felt  such  a 
wrathful  discontent  at  the  idea  of  his  courting  all  the  silly 
girls?  In  imagination,  she  could  see  him  among  the  carpets, 
trundling  the  great  rolls,  fascinating,  enthralling  the  rude 
customer, —  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  had  begun  even 
then.  She  and  the  shrew  were  one  in  their  weakness;  both 

66 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

had  been  hypnotised  together.  Mears  said  all  the  women 
in  the  shop  had  submitted  to  the  spell  —  but  not  the  silliest, 
most  feather-headed  slut  of  them  all  had  fallen  into  such 
idiotic  depths  as  those  in  which  their  proud  and  stately 
chief  lay  weeping. 

She  dried  her  eyes,  got  out  of  bed  and  drank  water, 
stood  at  the  open  window,  turned  on  the  light,  turned  off 
the  light,  lay  down  again  and  tried  desperately  to  sleep. 

In  a  moment  her  cheeks  were  burning. —  She  could  feel 
the  hot  kisses;  she  could  hear  the  hurried  words.  "A  face 
made  to  be  kissed  —  setting  one's  blood  on  fire.  .  .  . 
You  are  a  woman  all  through  —  you  are  ripe  for  love." 

Ah,  if  only  one  could  give  way  to  such  a  dream  of 
rapture;  if  one  could  believe  that  the  lost  years  might  be 
recovered,  that  all  one  has  missed  in  life  —  its  passionate 
sweetness  and  its  satisfying  fullness  —  might  be  won  by  a 
miraculous  interposition  of  fate.  Nothing  less  than  a  mir- 
acle can  bring  back  the  wasted  past. 

She  did  not  sleep;  but  with  the  return  of  day  she  grew 
calmer.  Thoughts  of  Enid  helped  her.  A  second  marriage 
—  even  what  the  world  would  call  a  wise  and  fitting  al- 
liance —  was  utterly  out  of  the  question.  It  would  be  the 
death  of  her  daughter's  love;  it  would  render  the  story 
of  her  own  life  meaningless;  it  would  destroy  all  the  re- 
sults of  twenty-two  years'  maternal  devotion.  Enid  had 
been  all  in  all  to  her:  Enid  must  remain  what  she  had 
always  been.  If  on  the  mother's  part  there  was  a  brave 
renunciation  of  self,  it  belonged  to  the  dim  past;  it  was  over 
and  done  with  —  a  solid  fact,  not  to  be  modified,  far  less 
overturned. 

Least  of  all  by  such  a  marriage  as  this  —  laughter 
mingling  with  the  sound  of  bells,  coarse  jokes  to  be  thrown 
after  them  instead  of  pretty  confetti,  even  the  sacred  words 
of  the  priest  at  the  altar  echoed  by  derisive  words  of  rabble 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

in  the  porch !  Enid  would  never  forgive  her  —  were  she 
ever  to  forgive  herself. 

In  the  broad  light  of  day,  in  the  cold  light  of  logic,  she 
saw  that  it  was  impossible.  Her  emotions  might  be  roused, 
unsuspected  sexual  instincts  might  be  partially  awakened, 
beneath  the  matronly  time-worn  outer  case  a  virginal 
mechanism  might  be  stirring;  but  the  whole  intellectual  side 
of  her  nature  was  strong  enough  to  reinforce  the  special 
functions  of  her  will.  Too  late  to  snatch  at  lost  joys! 
Reason  rejected  the  impossibility. 

She  was  too  old.  The  chance  had  gone  years  ago.  The 
young  man,  even  if  she  could  believe  that  he  loved  her  now 
—  much  as  a  romantic  subject  might  fancy  that  he  loved  his 
queen, —  would  soon  grow  weary.  Familiarity  would  rob 
her  of  all  queenly  attributes;  at  the  best  nothing  would  be 
left  except  disappointment,  and  at  the  worst  disgust.  And 
then  she  would  suffer  intolerable  torment.  She  saw  it  quite 
clearly  —  the  martyrdom  of  a  middle-aged  wife  who  cannot 
retain  her  young  husband's  love. 

None  of  that.  She  rose  after  the  sleepless  night  with  her 
decision  fortified. 


VIII 

BUT  the  fortifying  of  the  decision  had  cost  her  much,  and 
the  after-effects  of  nerve-strain  were  easily  to  be  perceived. 

She  was  rather  terrible  in  the  shop,  and  all  noticed  a 
sudden  and  mysterious  change.  Of  a  morning  she  used  to 
appear  with  dark  circles  round  her  eyes;  her  greetings,  or 
acknowledgments  of  greetings,  were  less  cordial;  she  moved 
more  slowly;  and  in  her  stern  glance  it  seemed  that  there 
was  the  certainty  of  finding  something  amiss,  instead  of  the 
hope  of  seeing  nothing  wrong. 

Rather  terrible  —  easily  irritated,  impatient  of  argument, 
quick  to  resent  advice:  as  the  young  ladies  put  it,  ready  to 
snap  your  head  off  at  any  minute.  A  whisper,  somehow 
passing  out  of  house  to  shop,  said  she  was  suffering  from 
continued  sleeplessness;  and  the  loyal  staff  were  eager  to 
make  allowances.  But  they  wondered  how  long  the  change 
would  last;  they  hoped  that  she  would  soon  get  a  comfort- 
able night,  and  wake  up  again  as  their  kind  and  considerate 
mistress. 

In  fact,  many  little  things  that  once  would  not  have 
worried  her  now  jarred  upon  tired  nerves.  She  felt  wor- 
ried by  Bence's,  by  her  husband's  stupid  relations,  by  Mr. 
Mears;  and  by  Mr.  Prentice,  the  solicitor,  who  took  the 
liberties  permitted  to  an  old  friend.  He  and  all  other  old 
friends  worried  her. 

She  was  altogether  unable  to  laugh  as  of  old  at  the  im- 
pudence of  Bence.  She  frowned  and  stamped  her  foot  when, 
looking  across  the  road,  she  first  read  the  placard  on  the 
shuttered  frontage  of  the  ancient  sadler  and  the  bookseller. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

It  was  not  in  small  print:  you  could  read  ft  from  Thomp* 
son's  without  a  telescope.  "  These  Premises,"  said  the  pos- 
ter, "will  shortly  be  opened  as  the  new  Furniture  depart- 
ment of  Bence  Brothers,  and  a  long-felt  want  will  be  sup- 
plied by  an  extensive  stock  of  high-class  goods  at  reasonable 
prices."  And  this,  if  you  please,  immediately  facing  the  two 
windows  that  from  immemorial  time  had  exhibited  Thomp- 
son's solid  oak  chairs  and  polished  walnut  tables!  The 
gross,  large-typed  piece  of  impertinence  annoyed  her  exces- 
sively. 

She  had  always  been  extraordinarily  good  to  old  Thomp- 
son's relatives,  who  were  common  and  troublesome.  They 
all  hung  on  to  her,  called  her  Cousin  Jenny,  boasted  about 
their  prosperous  connection  by  marriage;  they  received  bene- 
fits with  scant  thanks,  grumbled  when  they  fancied  them- 
selves neglected;  and  they  were  all  extremely  jealous  and 
watchful  of  one  another.  Yet  till  now  they  had  never 
exhausted  her  patience  and  magnanimity. 

One  of  them,  John  Edward  Thompson,  a  grocer  in  a 
small  way  of  business  at  Haggart's  Cross,  had  often  drawn 
heavily  upon  her  for  financial  aid.  He  was  a  short,  squat, 
bearded  man;  and  he  used  to  come  into  the  shop  unexpect- 
edly, and  meander  about  it  aimlessly,  to  the  trouble  and 
confusion  of  the  shop-walkers. 

"  What  department,  sir  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer. 

"  What  can  I  have  the  pleasure  of  showing  you,  sir?  " 

"  Don't  mind  me,  young  man.  Go  on  with  your  work. 
I'm  just  looking  round  to  find  my  cousin." 

"  May  I  be  of  assistance,  sir  ?  If  you  will  be  good  enough 
to  tell  me  your  cousin's  name?  " 

"  My  cousin's  name,"  said  John  Edward  shortly,  "  is 
Mrs.  Thompson.  .  .  .  There.  Put  that  in  your  pipe 
and  smoke  it." 

70 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

It  nearly  always  happened  that  he  found  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son with  her  back  turned  towards  him.  Then  he  would 
put  two  somewhat  grubby  hands  on  her  shoulders,  with 
cousinly  playfulness  pull  her  round  the  right  way,  and  pub- 
licly kiss  her.  This  was  an  act  of  affection,  and  a  trium- 
phant assertion  of  the  relationship  —  something  more  for 
those  foppish  shopwalkers  to  put  in  their  pipes  and  smoke. 

"  Cousin  Jenny,  how  goes  it?  " 

Then,  after  the  kiss,  he  would  look  at  her  reproachfully, 
and  begin  to  grumble. 

"  Cousin  Jenny,  you  drove  through  Haggart's  Cross  last 
Thursday  in  your  carriage  and  pair.  /  saw  you.  But  you 
didn't  see  me.  No,  you  didn't  think  of  stopping  the  horses 
for  half  a  minute,  and  passing  the  time  of  day  to  your 
cousin." 

Mrs.  Thompson  used  smilingly  to  lead  him  into  the 
counting-house,  give  him  kind  words,  give  him  good  money. 
He  took  the  money  grumblingly,  as  if  it  was  the  least  that 
could  be  offered  as  atonement  for  the  neglectfulness  of  last 
Thursday ;  but  he  went  home  very  happy. 

He  had  done  all  this  scores  of  times,  and  Mrs.  Thompson 
had  borne  it  all  with  unflinching  generosity.  But  now,  on 
a  broiling  July  day,  he  did  it  once  too  often.  He  got  as 
far  as  the  public  salute,  and  no  further. 

She  was  upstairs,  standing  near  a  desk,  with  her  back 
towards  China  and  Glass.  He  came  behind  her,  playfully 
laid  hold  of  her,  kissed  her.  She  gave  a  cry,  turned  upon 
him  in  a  white  fury,  and,  seeing  who  he  was,  snapped  his 
head  off. 

That  day  he  did  not  go  home  happy. 

Other  cousins  were  old  Mrs.  Price  and  her  two  daugh- 
ters, who  would  all  three  have  been  in  the  workhouse  but 
for  Mrs.  Thompson.  Thanks  to  her,  they  were  living  com- 
fortably at  Riverdale,  with  a  pleasant  rent-free  cottage,  gar- 

7.1 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

den,  and  orchard.  The  Miss  Prices  made  jam  and  brought 
it  as  a  present  to  Mrs.  Thompson,  keeping  up  a  baseless 
tradition  that  she  loved  their  preserve  —  and  taking  im- 
mense gifts  in  exchange  for  it.  They  visited  their  cousin 
twice  in  July,  first  to  say  they  would  soon  make  the  jam, 
secondly  to  bring  the  jam;  and  each  time  they  spent  a  long 
day  at  Mallingbridge,  coming  in  and  out  of  house  and  shop, 
cackling  and  giggling,  and  almost  driving  Mrs.  Thompson 
mad. 

Then  there  was  Gordon  Thompson,  a  farmer  at  Link- 
field,  who  sometimes  came  into  town  on  market  day,  and 
ate  his  mid-day  meal  with  his  rich  cousin  in  St.  Saviour's 
Court.  He  used  to  open  the  house  door  without  ringing 
the  bell,  and  whistle  a  few  notes  as  a  familiar  signal. 
"Cousin  Jen-ny!  Cousin  Jen-ny."  He  would  shout  this 
with  an  ascending  intonation,  and  then  come  clambering  up 
the  steep  staircase. 

"Any  dinner  to-day  for  a  poor  relation?  .  .  .  Ah, 
my  dear,  you're  not  the  sort  to  turn  a  hungry  man  away 
from  your  table.  Garr  —  but  I  can  tell  you  I'm  sharp  set." 

He  was  a  hale  and  hearty-looking  fellow,  full  of  noisy 
jests,  with  a  great  affectation  of  joviality;  but  in  his  twin- 
kling eyes  and  about  his  pursed  lips  there  was  the  peasant's 
wariness,  astuteness,  and  greed.  Truly  he  took  all  he  could 
get  from  everybody,  including  his  fortunate  cousin.  Enid 
said  his  hob-nailed  boots  were  dirty  as  well  as  ugly,  malodor- 
ous too;  and  she  always  fled  at  his  approach,  and  did  not 
reappear  while  Mrs.  Thompson  feasted  him  and  made  much 
of  him. 

Now,  when  Mrs.  Thompson  heard  the  well-known  whis- 
tle in  the  hall,  she  followed  her  daughter's  example";  for- 
saking the  luncheon-dishes,  she  fled  back  to  the  shop  through 
the  door  of  communication,  and  left  Yates  to  entertain 
hungry  Gordon. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Enid  was  at  home,  but  she  failed  as  a  soothing  and  calm- 
ing influence.  If  her  mother  turned  to  her,  endeavoured  to 
lean  upon  her  for  support  in  an  unexpected  need,  she  found 
a  blank  void,  a  totally  inadequate  buttress.  Enid  was  self- 
absorbed,  busy  with  her  own  little  affairs,  taking  lessons 
from  the  new  riding-master  at  Young's  school,  spending 
long  hours  away  from  the  house.  She  seemed  like  a  person 
who  really  has  no  intuitive  sympathy  to  offer:  a  person  lock- 
ing up  her  life  against  intruders,  keeping  close  guard  over 
secret  emotions,  and  neither  willing  to  share  her  own  hopes 
and  fears  nor  to  comprehend  those  of  others. 

Perhaps  Enid's  coldness  —  so  often  felt,  but  never  till 
now  admitted  in  the  mother's  thoughts  —  added  to  the  hid- 
den trouble  of  Mrs.  Thompson. 

She  entered  the  China  department  as  rarely  as  possible, 
and  her  intercourse  with  its  head  was  of  the  most  formal 
and  distant  character.  The  conduct  of  Mr.  Marsden  was 
irreproachable:  he  was  composed,  polite,  respectful;  and  he 
never  came  down  behind  the  glass.  But  he  used  his  eyes  — 
a  mute  yet  deadly  attack,  whenever  she  encountered  them. 
She  dreaded  the  attack,  braced  herself  for  it  when  it  could 
no  longer  be  avoided;  and  these  meetings,  however  brief, 
had  painful  consequences.  They  enervated  her,  sapped  her 
energy,  and  left  her  with  an  incredible  sense  of  fatigue,  so 
that  after  each  of  them  she  walked  downstairs  to  her  room 
heavily  and  wearily,  sat  at  the  big  desk  breathing  fast  and 
trembling,  feeling  for  a  little  while  quite  unable  to  work 
—  almost  as  if  she  had  been  worn  out  by  another  physical 
tussle,  instead  of  by  a  mere  exchange  of  glances. 

She  was  sitting  thus,  breathless  and  perturbed,  when  Mr. 
Mears  came  bothering.  Earlier  in  the  day  she  had  ad- 
monished the  second  in  command  very  sharply,  and  it  ap- 
peared that  he  could  not  bear  her  momentary  censure.  He 
said  she  had  snapped  at  him  as  she  had  never,  never  snappedo 

73 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

The  vast  ponderous  man  was  completely  overcome ;  his  voice 
shook,  his  hands  shook,  and  tears  trickled  down  his  cheeks 
while  he  solemnly  tendered  his  resignation. 

"  Resign?     What  nonsense  are  you  talking,  Mr.  Mears?  " 

But  Mears  said  it  was  not  nonsense:  he  meant  every 
word  of  it.  Rather  than  suffer  here,  he  would  go  out  and 
brave  the  world  in  his  old  age. 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Mears  —  and  don't  be  so  foolish'." 

"  I  don't  recognise  you  these  last  weeks,"  said  Mears 
sadly;  and  he  told  her  of  how  intensely  he  had  always 
venerated  her.  "  Everything  you  did  was  right  —  It  is 
almost  a  religion  with  me.  And  now  I  couldn't  bear  it  — 
it  would  break  my  heart  if  I  was  to  be  pushed  aside." 

"  You  won't  be  pushed  aside.     No  fear  of  that." 

"  Or  if  there  was  to  be  any  great  changes  in  the  shop." 

"  There  will  be  no  great  changes  in  the  shop." 

"  Nor  in  your  private  life  ?  " 

Then  Mrs.  Thompson  snapped  again. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?  What  is  my  private  life 
to  you  —  or  anybody  else?  What  are  you  insinuating? 
.  .  .  Answer  me.  What  do  you  mean?  " 

He  would  not,  or  he  could  not  say.  Perhaps  he  really 
did  not  know  what  he  meant;  or  some  subtle  instinct,  tell- 
ing him  that  a  great  peril  to  his  peace  and  comfort  was 
drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  had  enabled  him  to  pierce  the 
mystery  and  had  prompted  the  words  of  the  offending  ques- 
tion. He  sat  gasping  and  gaping  while  she  stormed  at  him. 

"  Understand  once  for  all  that  I  won't  be  watched  and 
spied  upon." 

"I  am  no  spy,"  he  said  huskily;  "except  when  you've 
made  me  one." 

The  door  was  closed,  but  her  angry  voice  rang  out  above 
the  glass  partitions.  All  through  the  offices  it  was  known 
that  the  manager  had  put  Mrs.  T.  into  tantrums. 

74 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Suddenly  the  storm  blew  itself  out.  Mrs.  Thompson 
paced  the  room;  then  stopped  near  the  empty  fireplace,  with 
her  hands  clasped  behind  her  back.  Her  attitude  was  alto- 
gether manlike.  It  was  the  big  man,  sitting  huddled  on  the 
chair,  wiping  his  cheeks,  and  blowing  his  nose,  who  dis- 
played signs  of  womanish  emotion. 

"  Mr.  Mears,  don't  let's  have  any  more  of  it.  You  and 
I  must  never  quarrel.  It  would  be  too  absurd.  We  are 
friends  —  we  are  comrades;  "  and  she  went  over  to  the  chair, 
and  shook  hands  with  her  comrade.  "  That's  right.  You 
and  I  know  each  other;  you  and  I  can  trust  each  other." 

Then  she  again  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  speaking 
as  she  moved. 

"  To  show  how  absolutely  I  trust  you,  I'll  say  to  you 
what  I  wouldn't  say  to  anyone  —  no,  not  to  my  daughter. 
I  am  sorry  if  I  have  seemed  fretful  of  late.  But  the  rea- 
son is  this.  I  have  been  passing  through  a  mental  struggle 
—  a  struggle  that  has  tried  me  sorely."  In  her  tone  and 
the  whole  aspect  of  her  face  as  she  made  this  confession, 
there  was  something  far  above  the  narrow  realm  of  sex, 
something  that  man  or  woman  might  be  proud  to  show  — 
a  generous  candour,  a  fearless  truth,  a  noble  simplicity.  "  A 
hard  struggle,  Mr.  Mears  —  and  I'm  a  little  shaken,  but 
quite  victorious.  .  .  .  Now  this  is  between  ourselves  — 
and  it  must  go  no  further." 

"  It  never  shall,"  said  Mr.  Mears  earnestly. 

"  And  not  a  word  either  about  our  tiff,  or  your  unkind 
threat  to  resign." 

"  No  —  er,  no.     I  shan't  say  another  word  about  that." 

But  unfortunately  Mr.  Mears  had  already  said  a  word 
or  two  about  it  to  Mr.  Prentice  the  solicitor;  and  very  soon 
Mr.  Prentice  came,  tactlessly  blundering,  to  see  Mrs. 
Thompson. 

No  one  could  admire  her  more  than  Mr.  Prentice  — 
6  75 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

truly  his  admiration  was  so  obviously  genuine  that  people 
sometimes  wondered  what  Mrs.  Prentice  thought  about  it. 
Staunch  friendship,  skilled  service,  as  well  as  the  admira- 
tion, had  won  him  many  privileges;  but  he  overstepped  their 
limits  now. 

"  I  say.  Is  it  all  serene  between  you  and  Mears  ?  Let 
me  advise  you  —  don't  allow  the  breach  to  widen.  I  should 
consider  it  a  great  pity  if  you  were  to  part  with  your  right- 
hand  man  because  of  any  trifling  difference  of — " 

Mrs.  Thompson  cut  him  short. 

"  Mr.  Prentice,  there  is  one  thing  I  cannot  permit  —  even 
from  you.'*  She  was  dignified,  but  terrible.  "  I  cannot, 
and  I  will  not  permit  interference  in  what  is  my  business, 
and  my  business  only." 

"  Sorry  —  very  sorry.  .  .  .  No  idea  I  should  put  you 
out  like  this." 

Mr.  Prentice,  with  muttered  apologies,  hurried  away, 
looking  scared  and  abashed,  carrying  his  square  bowler  all 
through  the  shop  into  the  street,  as  if  in  his  confusion  he  had 
forgotten  that  it  belonged  to  his  head. 


IX 

SHORTLY  after  this  unlucky  visit  Mr.  Prentice  wanted  to 
tell  Mrs.  Thompson  some  startling  news,  but  he  did  not 
dare.  He  consulted  Mr.  Mears,  and  asked  him  to  tell  her; 
but  Mears  did  not  dare  either.  Mears  advised  the  solicitor 
to  take  Yates  into  his  confidence,  and  let  Yates  tell  her. 

So  then  at  last  Mrs.  Thompson  heard  what  so  many  peo- 
ple knew  already  —  that  Enid  was  carrying  on  with  a  young 
man  in  a  very  unbecoming  fashion.  Scandalized  townsfolk 
had  seen  Enid  at  the  school  with  him,  in  the  museum  with 
him,  in  the  train  with  him ;  —  they  had  met  her  at  consider- 
able distances  from  Mallingbridge,  dressed  for  riding,  with 
this  groomlike  attendant,  but  without  a  horse. 

The  news  shocked  and  distressed  Mrs.  Thompson  — 
during  her  first  surprise  and  pain,  it  seemed  to  her  as  cruel 
as  if  Enid  had  driven  a  sharp  knife  into  her  heart.  But 
was  the  thing  true  ?  Yates  thought  it  was  all  true  —  none 
of  it  exaggerated. 

Mrs.  Thompson  made  a  few  discreet  inquiries,  ascertained 
the  correctness  of  the  facts,  and  then  tackled  Enid. 

"  Mother  dear,"  said  Enid,  with  self-possession  but 
slightly  ruffled,  "  no  one  could  help  liking  Charles.  I'm 
sure  you'll  like  him  when  you  see  him." 

"Why  haven't  I  seen  him?  Why  have  you  left  me  to 
learn  his  name  from  the  lips  of  servants  and  busybodies? 
Oh,  Enid,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  indignantly,  yet  very  sadly, 
"  didn't  you  ever  think  how  deeply  this  would  wound 
me?" 

"  But,  mother  dear,  you  must  have  known  that  it  would 

77. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

happen  some  day  —  that  sooner  or  later  I  should  fall  in 
love." 

"  Yes,  but  I  never  guessed  that,  when  the  time  came,  or 
you  fancied  it  had  come,  you  would  keep  me  in  the  dark  — 
treat  me  as  if  I  was  a  stranger,  and  not  your  best 
friend." 

"  Charlie  didn't  wish  me  to  tell  you  about  it  just  yet." 

"And  why  not?" 

"  He  said  we  were  both  old  enough  to  know  our  own 
minds,  and  we  ought  to  be  quite  sure  that  we  really  and 
truly  suited  each  other  before  we  talked  about  it.  But  we 
are  both  sure  now." 

"  I  think  he  has  behaved  very  badly  —  almost  wickedly." 

"  How  can  you  say  that,  mother?  " 

"  I  say  it  emphatically.  He  is  a  man  of  the  world  — 
and  he  had  no  right  to  allow  you  to  act  so  foolishly." 

But  Enid  appeared  not  to  understand  her  mother's  mean- 
ing. She  could  not  measure  the  enormity  of  her  conduct 
when  indulging  in  those  train-journeys  and  museum- 
wanderings.  She  admitted  everything;  she  was  ashamed 
of  nothing. 

"  Surely,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  "  you  could  see  that  a 
girl  of  your  age  cannot  do  such  things  without  malicious 
people  saying  unkind  things  ?  " 

"  When  one  is  in  love,  one  cannot  trouble  to  think  what 
malicious  people  will  say." 

In  fact  Enid  seemed  to  believe  that  she  and  Mr.  Kenion 
had  created  a  small  universe  of  their  own,  into  which  no 
one  else  had  a  right  to  push  themselves. 

"  Mother  dear,"  and  for  the  first  time  she  spoke  plead- 
ingly and  anxiously.  "  Please  —  please  don't  try  to  come 
between  us.  I  could  never  give  him  up." 

It  was  a  turn  of  the  knife  with  which  she  had  stabbed  her 
mother.  The  words  of  the  appeal  would  have  been  appro- 

78 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

priate  in  addressing  a  harsh  and  obdurate  guardian,  instead 
of  an  adoring  parent. 

"  If,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  sadly,  "  he  is  worthy  of  you, 
I  shall  be  the  last  person  in  the  world  who  will  ask  you  to 
give  him  up." 

Enid  seemed  delighted. 

"  Mother  dear,  he  is  more  than  worthy." 

"  We  shall  see.  .  .  .  But  it  all  hangs  on  that  if  — 
a  big  ift  I  am  much  afraid.  .  .  .  You  must  pull  yourself 
together,  Enid,  and  be  a  good  and  brave  girl  —  and  you 
must  prepare  yourself  for  disappointment.  So  far,  I  do  not 
receive  satisfactory  reports  of  him." 

"  No  one  on  earth  ought  to  be  believed  if  they  bring  you 
tales  against  him." 

And  then  little  by  little  Enid  told  her  mother  of  Mr. 
Kenion's  many  charms  and  virtues,  and  of  how  and  why 
he  had  won  her  love  so  easily. 

He  came  to  dinner  at  the  Salters,  and  he  wore  a  red  coat. 
She  had  never  seen  him  till  she  saw  him  dining  in  pink, 
with  brass  buttons  and  white  silk  facings.  He  was  a 
magnificent  horseman  —  rode  two  winners  at  Cambridge 
undergraduate  races;  —  had  since  ridden  several  seconds  in 
point-to-points ;  —  even  Mr.  Bedford,  Young's  new  riding- 
master,  confessed  that  he  had  a  perfect  seat  on  a  horse. 
And  he  belonged  to  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  England. 
Although  old  Mr.  Kenion  was  only  a  clergyman,  he  had  a 
cousin  who  was  an  English  marquis,  and  another  cousin  who 
was  an  Irish  viscount  —  if  six  people  had  died,  and  a  dozen 
people  hadn't  legally  married,  or  hadn't  been  blessed  with 
children,  Charles  himself  would  have  been  a  lord. 

Even  if  Mrs.  Thompson  had  heard  nothing  to  his  dis- 
advantage, the  plain  facts  of  the  case  would  have  convinced 
her  that  he  was  a  bad  lot.  As  a  woman  of  business,  she  had 

79 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

little  doubt  that  she  was  called  upon  to  deal  with  a  worth- 
less unprincipled  adventurer.  His  game  had  been  to  force 
her  hand  —  by  compromising  the  girl,  insure  the  mother's 
consent  to  an  engagement.  If  not  interrupted  in  his  plan, 
he  would  bring  matters  to  a  point  where  the  choice  lay  be- 
tween an  imprudent  marriage  and  the  loss  of  reputation. 
When  Mrs.  Thompson  thought  of  her  cowardly  adversary, 
anger  made  the  blood  beat  at  her  temples.  If  she  had  been 
a  father  instead  of  a  mother,  she  would  have  bought  one  of 
the  implements  of  the  chase  to  which  he  was  so  much  ad- 
dicted, and  have  given  Mr.  Kenion  a  wholesome  horse- 
whipping. 

But  when  she  thought  of  Enid  all  her  pride  smarted,  and 
anger  changed  to  dolorous  regret.  It  was  indescribably 
mortifying  to  think  that  Enid,  the  carefully  brought  up 
young  lady,  the  highly  finished  pupil  of  sedate  private  gov- 
ernesses and  a  majestically  fashionable  school,  should  forget 
the  ordinary  rules  of  delicacy,  modesty,  propriety,  and  ex- 
hibit less  reticence  in  her  actions  than  might  be  expected 
from  one  of  Bence's  drapery  girls.  Enid  had  been  pointed 
at,  laughed  at,  talked  about.  It  was  horrible  to  Mrs. 
Thompson.  It  struck  directly  at  her  own  sense  of  dignity 
and  importance.  In  cheapening  herself,  Enid  had  lowered 
the  value  of  everybody  connected  with  her.  Enid,  slinking 
out  of  the  house,  furtively  hurrying  to  her  lover,  clandes- 
tinely meeting  him,  and  lingering  at  his  side  in  unseemly 
obliviousness  of  the  passing  hours,  had  been  not  only  jeop- 
ardising her  own  good  fame,  but  robbing  her  mother  of 
public  esteem. 

Yet  far  worse  than  the  wound  to  her  pride  was  the  bitter 
blow  to  her  affection.  Half  her  life  had  been  spent  in 
proving  that  her  greatest  wish,  her  single  aim  was  her 
child's  happiness;  but  all  the  years  counted  for  nothing. 
Trust  and  confidence  extinguished;  no  natural  impulse  to 

80 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

pour  out  the  heart's  secrets  to  a  mother's  ear  — "  Charlie 
didn't  wish  me  to  tell  you."  Enid  said  this  as  if  it  formed 
a  completely  adequate  explanation:  she  must  of  course  im- 
plicitly obey  the  strange  voice.  The  mother  who  worshipped 
her  had  sunk  immediately  to  less  than  nothing.  A  man  in 
a  red  coat,  a  man  in  gaiters,  the  first  man  who  whistled  to 
her  —  and  Enid  had  gone  freely  and  willingly  to  exchange 
the  dull  old  love  for  the  bright  new  one.  There  lay  the 
stinging  pain  of  it. 

What  to  do  ?  One  must  do  something.  Mrs.  Thompson 
took  up  the  business  side  of  it,  and  determined  as  a  first  step 
to  tackle  the  young  man.  Purchased  horsewhips  impossible; 
but  carefully  chosen  words  may  produce  some  effect. 

She  told  Enid  —  after  several  conversations  on  the  dis- 
asterous  subject  —  that  she  desired  an  interview  with  Mr. 
Charles  Kenion.  Enid  might  write,  inviting  him  to  call 
upon  her  mother,  or  Mrs.  Thompson  would  herself  write. 

Enid  said  she  would  write  to  him  without  delay;  but  she 
begged  that  he  might  be  received  at  the  house,  and  not  be 
asked  to  enter  the  shop.  She  seemed  to  dread  the  idea  of 
bringing  so  fine  a  gentleman  into  close  touch  with  the  com- 
mon aspects  of  mercantile  existence. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  firmly.  "  Let  him  come  to 
me  in  my  shop.  It  is  purely  a  business  interview,  and  I 
prefer  to  hold  it  in  a  place  of  business." 

It  was  a  most  unsatisfactory  interview. 

Mrs.  Thompson  hated  the  young  man  at  the  very  first 
glimpse  of  him  as  he  came  lounging  into  her  room.  He 
was  tall  and  skinny;  his  dark,  straight  hair  was  plastered 
back  from  a  low  forehead;  he  had  no  moustache;  and  his 
teeth,  which  showeu  too  much  in  a  narrow  mouth,  were 
ugly,  set  at  a  slightly  projecting  angle,  as  with  parrots.  No 
reasonable  being  could  call  him  handsome;  but  of  course  his 

Si 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

general  air  and  manner  were  gentlemanlike  —  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son admitted  so  much  at  once,  and  disliked  him  all  the  more 
for  it.  Gentlemanlikeness  was  his  sole  stock  in  trade:  he 
would  push  that  for  all  it  was  worth,  and  she  was  im- 
mediately conscious  that  in  his  easy  tone  and  careless  loung- 
ing attitude  there  was  a  quiet,  steady  assumption  of  his 
social  value  as  the  well-bred  young  gentleman  whose  father 
is  related  to  the  peerage. 

"  Please  be  seated,  Mr.  Kenion." 

"  Thanks," 

She  had  ignored  his  obvious  intention  of  shaking  hands, 
and  he  was  not  apparently  in  the  least  disconcerted  by  her 
refusal  of  the  friendly  overture. 

"  I  feel  sure,  Mr.  Kenion,  that  if  we  have  a  good  talk, 
you  and  I  will  be  able  to  understand  each  other." 

"  Er  —  yes,  I  hope  so." 

"  I  think  it  is  important  that  you  and  I  should  understand 
each  other  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Thanks  awfully.  I'm  sure  it's  very  good  of  you  to  let 
me  come.  I  know  how  busy  you  are." 

He  was  looking  at  various  objects  in  the  room,  and  a 
slow  smile  nickered  about  his  small  mouth.  He  looked 
especially  at  some  files  on  the  desk,  and  at  the  massive  door 
of  one  of  the  big  safes  standing  ajar  and  displaying  iron 
shelves.  He  looked  at  these  things  with  childish  interest; 
and  Mrs.  Thompson  felt  annoyance  from  the  thought  that 
the  smile  was  intended  to  convey  the  inference  of  his  never 
having  seen  such  things  before,  and  of  his  being  rather 
amused  by  them. 

But  she  permitted  no  indication  of  her  thoughts  to 
escape  her.  The  governing  powers  of  her  mind  were  con- 
centrated on  the  business  in  hand ;  her  face  was  a  solid  mask, 
expressing  quiet  strength,  firm  resolution,  worldly  shrewd- 
ness, and  it  never  changed  except  in  colour,  now  getting  a 

82 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

little  redder,  now  a  little  paler;  she  sat  squarely,  so  that  her 
revolving  chair  did  not  turn  an  inch  to  one  side  or  the  other ; 
and  throughout  the  interview  she  seemed  and  was  re- 
doubtable. 

"  My  daughter  tells  me  that  you  have  proposed  to  her." 

"Yes  —  I  may  as  well  say  at  once  that  I'm  awfully  in 
love.  .  .  .  And  Enid  has  been  good  enough  to  —  er  — 
reciprocate.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  I've  done  to 
deserve  such  luck." 

"  Nor  do  I  as  yet,  Mr.  Kenion." 

"  Exactly.     Of  course  Enid  is  a  stunner." 

"  But  it  was  about  you,  and  not  my  daughter,  that  I 
wished  to  talk.  Perhaps  it  will  save  time  if  I  ask  you  a  few 
questions.  That  is  usual  on  these  occasions,  is  it  not?  " 

"  Well,  as  to  that,  I  can't  say,"  and  he  laughed  stupidly. 
"  This  is  the  first  time  I've  been  bowled  over." 

"  As  a  question  to  begin  with  —  what  about  your  pros- 
pects, in  whatever  career  you  have  planned?" 

"  My  plans,  don't  you  know,  would  depend  more  or  less 
on  Enid." 

"  But  you  can  give  me  some  account  of  your  position  in 
the  world  —  and  so  forth." 

"  Oh,  well,  that's  pretty  well  known  —  such  as  it  is. 
Not  brilliant,  don't  you  know.  .  .  .  But  I  relied  on 
Enid  to  tell  you  all  that." 

"  No,  please  don't  rely  on  her.  Only  rely  on  yourself, 
Mr.  Kenion." 

Something  of  the  quiet  swagger  had  evaporated.  The 
sunshine  came  streaming  down  from  a  skylight  and  fell  upon 
him.  Mrs.  Thompson  had  put  him  where  he  would  get 
all  the  light,  and  she  scrutinized  him  attentively. 

His  suit  of  grey  flannels,  although  not  of  sporting  cut 
or  material,  suggested  nothing  but  a  stable  and  horses;  and 
beneath  his  casual  air  of  gentlemanly  ease  there  was  raffish- 

83 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

ness,  looseness,  disreputability.  In  the  bright  sunbeams  he 
looked  sallow  and  bilious;  his  eyelids  drooped,  an  incipient 
yawn  was  lazily  suppressed ;  and  she  thought  that  very  likely 
he  had  been  drinking  last  night  and  would  soon  be  drinking 
again  this  morning. 

Mentally  she  compared  him  with  another  young  man. 
In  her  mind  she  carried  now  at  all  times  the  vividly  detailed 
picture  of  a  masculine  type ;  and  it  was  impossible  not  to  use 
it  as  a  standard  or  measure.  Mr.  Kenion  seemed  very 
weak  and  mean  and  valueless,  when  set  beside  her  standard. 

"  What  is  your  profession,  Mr.  Kenion?  " 

He  had  no  profession:  as  she  well  knew,  he  was  what  is 
called  a  gentleman  at  large.  With  vague  terms  he  con- 
veyed the  information  to  her  again. 

"Really?  Not  a  professional  man?  Are  you  a  man  of 
property  —  landed  estates,  and  so  on  ?  " 

No,  Mr.  Kenion  was  acreless. 

"  But  you  are  expecting  property  at  your  father's  death? 
Is  it  entailed  upon  you?  I  mean,  are  you  sure  of  the  suc- 
cession ?  " 

Mr.  Kenion  smilingly  confessed  that  his  father's  death 
would  not  bring  him  land. 

"  But  you  are  assured  that  he  can  supply  you  with  ample 
means  during  his  lifetime?  " 

Oh,  no.  Mr.  Kenion  explained  that  the  vicar  of  Chapel- 
Norton  was  in  no  sense  a  capitalist. 

"  My  governor  couldn't  do  anything  more  for  me  — 
and  I  shouldn't  care  to  ask  him.  He  has  done  a  good  deal 
for  me  already  —  it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  my  brothers  and 
sisters  to  ask  him  to  stump  up  again ; "  and  he  went  on  to 
hint  plainly  that  in  his  opinion  the  fact  of  his  being  a 
gentleman  —  a  real  gentleman  —  should  counterbalance 
such  a  trifle  as  the  deficiency  of  material  resources. 

Mrs.  Thompson  refused  to  comprehend  the  hint. 

84 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Surely,  Mr.  Kenion,  if  a  young  man  proposes  to  a  young 
lady  —  and  asks  her  to  engage  herself  to  him  without  her 
mother's  knowledge,  that  should  imply  that  he  is  prepared 
to  take  over  all  responsibilities?  " 

She  had  not  uttered  a  single  reproach,  or  even  by  in- 
nuendo upbraided  him  for  the  improper  course  that  he  had 
pursued  when  persuading  Enid  to  defy  the  laws  of  chap- 
eronage  and  go  about  with  him  alone.  Her  pride  would  not 
permit  her  to  make  the  slightest  allusion  to  the  girl's  folly. 
Besides,  that  would  be  to  play  his  game  for  him.  By  her 
silence  she  intended  to  show  him  that  he  had  not  scored  a 
point. 

"Don't  you  admit  as  much  as  that,  Mr.  Kenion?  If  I 
were  to  countenance  the  suggested  engagement,  how  do  you 
propose  to  maintain  such  a  wife  suitably  —  in  the  manner 
in  which  she  has  been  brought  up?  " 

"  Well,  of  course  I  couldn't  promise  to  open  a  shop  for 
her;"  and  he  laughed  with  fatuous  good-humour,  as  if 
what  he  had  said  was  rather  funny,  and  not  an  impertinence. 

"  There  are  worse  things  in  the  world  than  shops,  Mr. 
Kenion." 

"Exactly;"  and  he  laughed  again.  "As  to  ways  and 
means  —  of  course  I  haven't  made  any  inquiries  of  any 
sort.  But  Enid  gave  me  to  understand  —  or  I  gathered, 
don't  you  know,  that  money  was  no  object." 

"  Indeed  it  is  an  object,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  warmly. 
"  I  might  almost  say  it  has  been  the  object  of  my  life.  I 
know  how  difficult  it  is  to  earn,  and  how  easy  to  waste. 
.  .  .  But  I  doubt  if  anything  can  be  gained  by  further 
discussion.  Your  answers  to  my  questions  have  left  me  no 
alternative.  I  must  altogether  refuse  my  sanction  to  an 
engagement." 

"  You  won't  consent  to  it?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Kenion,  the  man  who  marries  my  daughter 

85 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

with  my  consent  must  first  prove  to  me  that  he  is  worthy 
of  her." 

"But  of  course  as  to  that  —  well,  Enid  tells  me  she  is 
over  twenty-one." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  see  what  you  mean.  A  man  might  marry 
her  without  my  consent.  But  then  he  would  get  her  — 
and  not  one  penny  with  her.  .  .  .  That,  Mr.  Kenion, 
is  quite  final." 

He  seemed  staggered  by  the  downright  weight  of  this 
final  statement. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  rather  feebly,  "  we  are  desperately 
in  love  with  one  another." 

Contempt  flashed  from  her  eyes  as  she  asked  him  still 
another  question  or  two. 

"  What  did  you  expect  —  that  I  should  welcome  your 
proposal  and  thank  you  for  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  Enid  and  I  had  made  up  our  minds  that  you 
wouldn't  thwart  her  wishes." 

"  But,  Mr.  Kenion,  even  if  I  had  agreed  and  made  every- 
thing easy  and  pleasant  for  you,  surely  you  would  not  be 
content  to  live  as  a  pensioner  for  the  rest  of  your  days?  " 

She  was  thinking  of  what  Dick  Marsden  had  said  to  her 
in  the  dusk  by  the  river.  "  I  could  not  pose  as  the  pen- 
sioner of  a  rich  wife."  It  seemed  to  her  a  natural  and  yet 
a  noble  sentiment;  and  she  contrasted  the  proper  manly 
frame  of  mind  that  found  expression  in  such  an  utterance 
with  the  mean-spirited  readiness  to  depend  on  others  that 
Mr.  Kenion  confessed  so  shamelessly.  Marsden  was  per- 
haps not  a  gentleman  in  the  snobbish,  conventional  sense, 
but  how  much  more  a  man  than  this  Kenion ! 

"  Don't  you  know,"  he  was  saying  feebly;  and,  as  he  said 
it,  he  stifled  another  yawn ;  "  I  should  certainly  try  to  do 
something  myself." 

"What?" 

86 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Well,  perhaps  a  little  farming.  I  think  I  could  help 
to  keep  the  pot  on  the  boil  by  making  and  selling  hunters  — 
and  a  good  deal  can  be  done  with  poultry,  if  you  set  to  work 
in  the  right  way.  .  .  .  Enid  seemed  to  like  the  notion 
of  living  in  the  country." 

Mrs.  Thompson  turned  the  revolving  chair  round  a  few 
inches  towards  the  desk,  and  politely  told  Mr.  Kenion  that 
she  need  not  detain  him  any  further. 

He  had  come  in  loungingly,  and  he  went  out  loungingly; 
but  he  was  limper  after  the  interview  than  before  it.  He 
probably  felt  that  the  stuffing  had  been  more  or  less  knocked 
out  of  him;  for  he  presently  turned  into  a  saloon  bar,  and 
sought  to  brace  himself  again  with  strong  stimulants. 

No  doubt  he  complained  bitterly  enough  to  Enid  of  the 
severely  chilling  reception  that  he  had  met  with  in  the  queer 
back  room  behind  the  shop.  Anyhow  Enid  complained  with 
bitterness  to  her  mother.  Indeed  at  this  crisis  of  her  life 
Enid  was  horrid.  Yates  begged  her  to  be  more  considerate, 
and  committed  a  breach  of  confidence  by  telling  her  of  how 
her  unkind  tone  had  twice  made  the  mistress  weep;  but 
Enid  could  attend  only  to  one  thing  at  a  time.  She  wanted 
her  sweetheart,  and  she  thought  it  very  hard  that  anybody 
should  attempt  to  deprive  her  of  him. 

"  And  it  will  all  be  no  use,  mother  —  because  I  never, 
never  can  give  him  up." 

Thus  the  days  passed  miserably;  and  a  sort  of  stalemate 
seemed  to  have  occurred.  Kenion  had  not  retired,  but  he 
was  not  coming  on ;  and  Enid  was  horrid. 

In  her  perplexity  and  distress  Mrs.  Thompson  went  to 
Mr.  Prentice,  and  asked  him  for  advice  and  aid. 

Mr.  Prentice,  delighted  to  be  restored  to  favour  after 
his  recent  disgrace,  was  jovial  and  cheering.  He  pooh- 
poohed  the  notion  that  Enid  had  in  the  smallest  degree 

87 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

compromised  herself;  he  talked  of  the  wide  latitude  given  to 
modern  girls,  of  their  independence,  their  capacity  to  take 
care  of  themselves  in  all  circumstances;  and  stoutly  declared 
his  belief  that  among  fashionable  people  the  chaperon  had 
ceased  to  exist. 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  that,  my  dear.  No  one  is  going 
to  think  any  the  worse  of  her  for  being  seen  with  a  cavalier 
dangling  at  her  heels." 

Nevertheless  he  heartily  applauded  Mrs.  Thompson  for 
her  firm  tackling  of  the  indigent  suitor;  he  offered  to  find 
out  everything  about  Kenion  and  his  family,  and  promised 
that  he  would  render  staunch  aid  in  sending  him  "  to  the 
right-abouts." 

When  Mrs.  Thompson  called  again  Mr.  Prentice  had 
collected  a  formidable  dossier,  and  he  read  out  the  damaging 
details  of  Mr.  Kenion's  history  with  triumphant  relish. 

"  Now  this  is  private  detective  work,  not  solicitors'  work 

—  and  I  expect  a  compliment  for  the  quick  way  I've  got  the 
information.     .     .     .     Well  then,  there's  only  one  word  for 
Mr.  Kenion  —  he's  a  thorough  rotter." 

And  Mr.  Prentice  began  to  read  his  notes. 

"  Our  friend,"  as  he  called  the  subject  of  the  memoir, 
was  sent  down  from  Cambridge  in  dire  disgrace.  He  had 
attempted  an  intricately  dangerous  transaction,  with  a 
credit-giving  jeweller  and  three  diamond  rings  at  one  end 
of  it,  and  a  pawnbroker  at  the  other.  The  college  author- 
ities heard  of  it  —  from  whom  do  you  suppose?  The  police! 
Old  Kenion  paid  the  bill,  to  avoid  something  worse  than  the 
curtailment  of  the  university  curriculum.  Since  then  "  our 
friend  "  had  been  mixed  up  with  horsedealers  of  ill  repute 

—  riding  their  horses,   taking  commissions  when   he  could 
sell  them. 

"  He  gambles,"  said  Mr.  Prentice  with  gusto;  "he 
drinks ;  he  womani  —  I  should  say,  his  morals  with  the 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

other  sex  are  a  minus  quantity And  last  of  all,  I 

can  tell  you  this.  I've  seen  the  fellow  —  got  a  man  to  point 
him  out  to  me;  and  there's  blackguard  written  all  over  him." 

"  Then  how  can  respectable  people  like  the  Salters  en- 
tertain him  ?  " 

"  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Prentice  philosophically,  "  that's  the  way 
we  live  nowadays.  The  home  is  no  longer  sacred.  People 
don't  seem  to  care  who  they  let  into  their  houses.  If  a 
fellow  can  ride  and  can  show  a  few  decent  relations,  hunting 
folk  forgive  him  a  good  deal.  And  the  Salters  very  likely 
hadn't  heard  —  or  at  any  rate  didn't  know  anything  against 
him." 

At  his  own  suggestion,  jumped  at  by  his  client,  Mr. 
Prentice  returned  with  Mrs.  Thompson  to  St.  Saviour's 
Court,  and  told  Miss  Enid  that  it  would  be  madness  for  her 
any  longer  to  encourage  the  attentions  of  such  a  ne'er-do-well. 

"  If  you  were  my  own  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Prentice 
solemnly,  "  I  should  forbid  your  ever  seeing  him  again. 
And  I  give  you  my  word  of  honour  I  believe  that  before  a 
year  has  past  you'll  thank  Mrs.  Thompson  for  standing 
firm  now." 

But  Enid  was  still  horrid.  She  seemed  infatuated;  she 
would  not  credit,  she  would  not  listen  to,  anything  of  det- 
riment to  her  sweetheart's  character.  She  spoke  almost 
rudely  to  her  mother;  and  when  Mr.  Prentice  took  it  on 
himself  to  reprove  her,  she  spoke  quite  rudely  to  him.  Then 
she  marched  out  of  the  room. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  "  there'll  be  a  certain 
amount  of  wretchedness  before  you  bring  her  to  reason." 

There  was  wretchedness  in  the  little  house  —  Enid  pining 
and  moping,  assuming  the  airs  of  a  victim ;  her  mother  trying 
to  soften  the  disappointment,  arguing,  consoling,  promising 
better  fish  in  the  sea  than  as  yet  had  come  out  of  it.  Enid 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

refused  to  go  away  from  Mallingbridge.  Mrs.  Thompson 
herself  longed  for  change,  and  the  chance  of  forgetting  all 
troubles;  there  was  nothing  to  keep  her  here  now,  although 
her  presence  would  be  required  in  September;  but  Enid, 
seemed  tied  by  invisible  strings  to  the  home  she  was  making 
so  very  uncomfortable. 

She  would  not  go  away,  and  she  would  not  undertake  to 
refrain  from  seeing  or  writing  to  Mr.  Kenion.  She  did 
give  her  word  that  she  would  not  slink  out  and  marry  him 
on  the  sly.  But  she  could  safely  promise  that,  because, 
under  the  existing  conditions  of  stalemate,  it  was  very 
doubtful  if  Mr.  Kenion  would  abet  her  in  so  bold  a  measure. 
Probably  she  was  aware  that  Mr.  Kenion's  courtship  had 
been  successfully  checked ;  and  the  knowledge  made  her  all 
the  more  difficult  to  deal  with.  Mr.  Kenion  was  neither 
retiring,  nor  coming  forward:  he  was  just  beating  time;  and 
perhaps  Enid  felt  humiliated  as  well  as  angry  when  she  ob- 
served his  stationary  position. 

A  pitiful  state  of  affairs  —  mother  and  daughter  sepa- 
rated in  heart  and  mind;  on  one  side  increasing  coldness,  on 
the  other  lessening  hope ;  an  estrangement  that  widened  every 
day. 

Then  at  last  Enid  consented  to  start  with  her  mother  for 
a  rapid  tour  in  Switzerland.  Mr.  Kenion,  it  appeared,  had 
crossed  the  Irish  Channel  on  some  kind  of  horse-business; 
and  so  Lucerne  and  Mallingbridge  had  become  all  one  to 
Enid. 

They  stayed  in  many  hotels,  visited  many  new  scenes; 
and  Mrs.  Thompson,  looking  at  high  mountains  and  broad 
lakes,  was  still  vainly  trying  to  recover  her  lost  child.  Enid 
was  calm  again,  polite  again,  even  conversational;  but  be- 
tween herself  and  her  mother  she  had  made  a  wall  as  high  as 
the  loftiest  mountain  and  a  chasm  as  wide  as  the  biggest  of 
the  lakes. 

90 


X 

THE  books  of  Thompson's  were  made  up  and  audited  at 
the  end  of  each  summer  season,  and  in  accordance  with  an 
unbroken  custom  the  proprietress  immediately  afterwards 
gave  a  dinner  to  the  heads  of  departments.  Printed  invita- 
tions were  invariably  issued  for  this  small  annual  banquet; 
the  scene  of  the  entertainment  was  the  private  house ;  and  the 
highly  glazed  cards,  with  which  Mrs.  Thompson  requested 
the  honour  of  the  company  of  Mr.  Mears  and  the  others  in 
St.  Saviour's  Court  at  6:45  for  7  o'clock,  used  to  be  boast- 
fully shown  along  the  counters  by  the  eight  or  ten  happy 
gentlemen  who  had  received  them. 

During  the  course  of  the  dinner  —  the  very  best  that  the 
Dolphin  could  send  in  —  Mrs.  Thompson  would  thank  her 
loyal  servants,  give  her  views  as  to  where  the  shop  had 
failed  to  achieve  the  highest  possible  results,  and  discuss  the 
plan  of  campaign  for  the  next  twelve  months.  The  heads 
of  departments,  warmed  with  the  generous  food,  cheered 
with  the  sparkling  wine,  charmed  and  almost  overwhelmed 
by  Mrs.  Thompson's  gracious  condescension,  said  the  same 
things  every  year,  made  the  same  suggestions,  never  by  any 
chance  contributed  an  original  idea.  But  the  dinner  was 
doing  them  good;  they  would  think  better  and  work  harder 
when  it  was  only  a  memory.  At  the  moment  it  was  suf- 
ficient for  them  to  realize  that  they  were  here,  sitting  at 
the  same  luxurious  table  with  their  venerated  employer, 
revelling  in  her  smiles,  seeing  her  evening  robe  of  splendour 
instead  of  the  shop  black;  admiring  her  bare  shoulders  and 
her  white  gloves,  her  costly  satin  and  lace,  her  glittering 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

sequins  or  shimmering  beads;  and  most  of  all  admiring  her 
herself,  the  noble  presiding  spirit  of  Thompson's. 

Jolly  Mr.  Prentice  was  always  present  —  acting  as  a 
deputy-host;  and  at  the  end  of  dinner  he  always  gave  the 
traditional  toast. 

"  Gentlemen,  raise  your  glasses  with  me,  and  drink  to 
the  best  man  of  business  in  Mallingbridge.  That  is,  to 
Mrs.  Thompson.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Thompson.  .  .  .  Mrs. 
Thompson !  " 

Then  little  Mr.  Ridgway  of  Silks  used  to  start  singing. 

"  '  For  she's  a  jolly  good  fellow  '  "     .     .     . 

"  Please,  please,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  picking  up  her 
fan,  and  rising.  "Without  musical  honours,  please;"  and 
the  chorus  immediately  stopped.  "  Gentlemen,  I  thank 
you ; "  and  she  sailed  out  of  the  room,  always  turning  at  the 
door  for  a  last  word.  "Mr.  Prentice,  the  cigars  are  on  the 
side  table.  Don't  let  my  guests  want  for  anything." 

Now  once  again  the  night  of  this  annual  feast  had  come 
round,  the  champagne  corks  were  popping,  the  Dolphin 
waiters  were  carrying  their  dainty  dishes;  and  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son sat  at  the  top  of  her  table,  like  a  kindly  queen  beaming 
on  her  devoted  courtiers. 

Yates,  standing  idle  as  a  major-domo  while  the  hirelings 
bustled  to  and  fro,  was  ravished  by  the  elegant  appearance 
of  the  queen.  Yates  had  braced  her  into  some  new  tre- 
mendous fashionable  stays  from  Paris,  and  she  thought  the 
effect  of  slimness  was  astonishing.  Truly  Mrs.  Thompson 
had  provided  herself  with  a  magnificent  dress  —  a  Paris 
model,  of  grey  satin  with  lace  and  seed  pearls  all  over  the 
bodice;  and  her  opulent  shoulders,  almost  bursting  from  the 
pretty  shoulder-straps,  gleamed  finely  and  whitely  in  the 
lamp-light.  Her  hair  made  a  grand  full  coronet,  low  across 
the  brow;  her  face  seemed  unusually  pale;  and  there  were 
dark  shadows  about  her  glowing  eyes. 

92 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Yes,  Mr.  Mears  —  as  you  say,  travelling  opens  the 
mind.  But  I  fear  I  have  brought  home  no  new  infor- 
mation." 

"  What  you  have  brought  home,"  said  Mr.  Ridgway, 
gallantly,  "  is  a  pleasure  to  see  —  and  that  is,  if  I  may  say 
so  " —  The  little  man  had  intended  to  pay  a  courageously 
direct  compliment,  by  saying  that  Mrs.  Thompson  had  never 
looked  so  attractive  as  she  did  now  after  the  brief  Conti- 
nental tour;  but  suddenly  his  courage  failed  him,  nervous- 
ness overcame  him,  and,  floundering,  he  tailed  off  weakly. 
"  You  have,  I  hope,  ma'am,  brought  home  replenished  health 
and  renewed  vigour." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Ridgway ; "  and  the  nervousness 
semed  to  have  communicated  itself  to  Mrs.  Thompson's 
voice.  "  A  change  of  scene  is  certainly  stimulating." 

"  I've  always  had  a  great  ambition,"  said  Mr.  Fentiman 
of  Woollens,  "  to  get  a  peep  at  Switzerland  before  I  die." 

"  Then  you  must  arrange  to  do  so,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson, 
with  kindly  significance.  "  Some  autumn  —  I'm  sure  it 
would  be  easy  to  arrange." 

"  I  figure  it,"  said  Mr.  Fentiman  sententiously,  "  as  a 
gigantic  panorama  —  stupefying  in  its  magnitude  —  and, 
ah,  in  all  respects  unique." 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson ;  and  she 
glanced  at  Enid,  who  was  pensively  playing  with  her  bread- 
crumbs. 

"  The  Swiss,"  said  Mr.  Mears,  "  are  reputed  a  thrifty 
race.  Did  you,  madam,  observe  signs  of  economic  prosperity 
among  the  people?  " 

Mr.  Prentice  chimed  in  boisterously  from  the  bottom  of 
the  table. 

"  What  no  one  will  ever  observe  among  the  Swiss  people 
is  a  pretty  girl.  Did  you  see  a  pretty  girl  on  all  your 
travels,  Mrs.  Thompson  —  except  the  one  you  took  with 

93 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

you  ?  "  And  Mr.  Prentice  bowed  to  Enid,  and  then  laughed 
loudly  and  cheerfully. 

"  Is  that  a  fact?  "  asked  Mr.  Ridgway.  "  Are  they  really 
so  ill-favoured  ?  " 

"  Plainest-headed  lot  in  Europe,"  shouted  Mr.  Prentice. 

"  And  do  you,  madam,  endorse  the  verdict  ?  " 

"Oh,  no.  Far  too  sweeping;"  and  Mrs.  Thompson 
laughed  nervously,  and  attempted  to  draw  her  daughter  into 
the  conversation.  "  Enid,  Mr.  Ridgway  is  asking  if  we  saw 
no  pretty  girls  in  Switzerland." 

But  Enid  was  dull.  She  had  volunteered  to  join  the 
party,  but  she  would  not  assist  the  hostess  in  making  it  a 
success.  She  need  not  have  been  here;  and  it  was  stupid  or 
unkind  of  her  to  come,  and  yet  not  try  to  be  pleasant. 

"Didn't  we,  mother?     I  don't  remember." 

All  this  strained  talk  about  Switzerland  was  heavy  and 
spiritless.  One  heard  the  note  of  effort  all  through  it. 
In  the  old  days  they  would  have  been  chattering  freely  of 
the  shop  and  themselves.  Mrs.  Thompson  felt  painfully 
conscious  that  there  was  something  wrong  with  the  feast. 
No  gaiety.  Some  influence  in  the  air  that  proved  alter- 
nately chilling  and  nerve-disturbing.  She  knew  that  Mr. 
Prentice  felt  it,  too.  He  was  endeavouring  to  make  things 
go;  and  when  he  wanted  things  to  go,  he  became  noisy. 
He  was  growing  noisier  and  noisier. 

She  looked  at  her  guests  while  Mr.  Prentice  bellowed  in 
monologue.  They  were  eating  and  drinking,  but  somehow 
failing  to  enjoy  themselves. 

Big  Mr.  Mears,  sitting  beside  her,  ate  enormously.  He 
wore  a  black  bow  tie,  with  a  low-cut  black  waistcoat  and 
his  voluminous  frock-coat  —  he  would  not  go  nearer  to  the 
conventional  dress-clothes,  not  judging  the  swallow-tail  as 
befitting  to  his  station  in  life,  or  his  figure.  Scrubby  little 
Mr.  Ridgway,  on  her  other  side,  emptied  his  glass  with 

94 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

surprising  rapidity.  Mr.  Fentiman,  a  tall  skinny  man,  ate 
almost  as  much  as  Mr.  Mears.  He  had  cleared  his  plate 
and  was  looking  at  the  ceiling,  with  his  long  neck  saliently 
exposed  above  a  turn-down  collar,  as  he  dreamed  perhaps 
of  next  year's  holiday  and  a  foreign  trip  financed  by  a  liberal 
patroness.  Wherever  she  turned  her  eyes,  she  saw  the 
familiar  commonplace  faces  —  bald  heads  glistening,  jaws 
masticating,  hands  busy  with  knife  and  fork;  but  nowhere 
could  she  see  any  light-hearted  jollity  or  genuine  amuse- 
ment and  interest. 

She  looked  at  the  head  of  China  and  Glass  last  of  all.  On 
this  occasion  Mr.  Marsden  made  his  initial  appearance  at 
her  hospitable  board.  It  was,  of  course,  impossible  to  leave 
him  out  of  the  gathering;  but  great,  very  great  trouble  of 
mind  had  been  aroused  by  the  necessity  to  include  him.  She 
had  feared  the  meeting  under  the  relaxed  conditions  of 
friendly  informal  intercourse.  Perhaps,  so  far  as  she  was 
concerned,  all  the  nerve-vibrating  element  in  the  atmosphere 
was  caused  by  his  quiet  unobtrusive  presence. 

He  wore  faultless  evening-dress,  with  a  pique  shirt,  a 
white  waistcoat,  and  a  flower  in  his  button-hole ;  and,  sitting 
at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  near  Mr.  Prentice,  he  was 
very  silent  —  almost  as  silent  as  Enid.  Not  quite,  because 
he  spoke  easily  and  naturally  when  anybody  addressed  him. 
And  his  silence  was  smiling  and  gracious.  Among  the  other 
men  he  seemed  to  be  a  creature  from  a  different  world  — 
so  firm  in  his  quiet  strength,  so  confident  in  his  own  power, 
so  young,  so  self-possessed,  and  so  extraordinarily,  overbear- 
ingly handsome. 

The  dinner  was  more  than  half  over ;  the  Dolphin  waiters 
were  carving  and  serving  some  savoury  game;  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son exerted  herself  as  a  watchful  and  attentive  hostess. 

"  Mr.  Greig,  you  mustn't  refuse  the  grouse.  It  was  spe- 
cially sent  from  Scotland  for  us." 

95 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Really,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Greig,  the  obese  chief  of 
Cretonnes  etc.,  "  your  menoo  is  that  ample  I  find  it  difficult 
not  to  shirk  my  duties  to  it.  But  still,  since  you're  so  kind 
as  to  mention  it  —  yes,  I  thank  you." 

"  That's  right,  Mr.  Greig." 

"  Greig,  my  good  friend,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  "  you'd 
make  a  poor  show  at  the  Guildhall  or  the  Mansion  House, 
if  you  can't  stay  the  course  without  all  these  protestations 
and  excuses." 

"  I've  never  dined  with  the  Lord  Mayor,"  said  Mr. 
Greig;  "but  I  cannot  believe  his  lordship  offers  the  most 
distinguished  company  a  more  ample  menoo  than  this." 

"  Enid,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  "  do  have  some  grouse." 

"  No,  thank  you,  mother." 

It  was  Enid  who  cast  a  chill  upon  everything  and  every- 
body; all  the  cold  and  depressing  influence  issued  from  her. 
She  looked  pretty  enough  in  her  pink  and  silver  frock,  and 
she  ought  to  have  been  a  charming  and  welcome  addition  to 
the  party;  but  she  would  not  put  herself  to  the  trouble  of 
talking  and  smiling.  She  made  no  slightest  effort  to  set 
these  more  or  less  humble  folk  at  their  ease.  She  showed 
that  she  was  absent-minded,  and  allowed  people  to  guess 
that  she  was  also  bored.  Now  Mr.  Prentice  was  rallying 
her  with  genial,  paternal  freedom  —  and  she  would  not 
even  answer  his  questions.  He  turned  away,  to  bellow  at 
Mr.  Fentiman;  and  obviously  felt  crushed  by  his  failure  to 
make  things  go. 

The  point  had  been  reached  when  it  was  customary  to 
begin  their  friendly  business  talk;  but  to-night  it  seemed 
impossible  for  them  to  speak  comfortably  of  the  shop.  The 
presence  of  the  fashionable  outsider  tied  all  their  tongues. 

Old  Mears  ponderously  started  the  ball;  but  no  one 
could  keep  it  rolling. 

"Well,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Mears.  "Another  year  has 

96 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

come  and  gone.  We  are  in  a  position  to  look  behind  us; 
and,  as  usual,  before  we  commence  to  look  ahead  of  us,  any 
words  that  fall  from  your  lips  will  be  esteemed  a  favour." 

"  Hear,  hear,"  said  Mr.  Ridgway,  shyly  and  feebly. 

"  Really,  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  "  I  don't 
know  that  I  have  any  words  likely  to  be  of  value." 

"Always  valuable  —  your  words,"  said  fat  Mr.  Greig. 

"  But  I  take  this  opportunity,"  and  Mrs.  Thompson 
looked  nervously  at  her  daughter  — "  this  opportunity  of 
thanking  you  for  all  you  have  done  for  me  in  the  past,  and 
of  assuring  you  that  I  place  the  fullest  confidence  in  you  — 
in  you  all  —  for  the  future." 

Enid  had  thrown  a  blight  over  the  proceedings.  She 
made  them  all  shy  and  uneasy.  Even  Mrs.  Thompson  her- 
self could  not  speak  of  the  shop  without  hesitating  and 
stammering. 

"  So,  really,"  she  went  on,  "  that  is  all  I  need  say,  gentle- 
men. But,  as  always,  I  shall  be  —  shall  be  glad  —  ex- 
tremely glad  if  you  will  give  me  your  candid  views  on  any 
subjects  —  on  all  subjects.  .  .  .  Have  you  any  sug- 
gestions to  make,  Mr.  Mears  ?  " 

Mr.  Mears  coughed,  and  hummed  and  hawed  before  re- 
plying. 

"  We  must  adhere  to  our  maxims  —  and  not  get  slack,  no 
matter  how  good  business  may  be." 

"  That's  it,"  said  Mr.  Ridgway.  "  Keep  up  the  high 
standard  of  Thompson's,  whatever  else  we  do." 

"  Any  suggestions  from  you,  Mr.  Greig?  " 

"  No  more,"  said  Mr.  Greig,  "  than  the'  remarks  which 
my  confreers  have  passed.  I  say  the  same  myself." 

She  asked  them  each  in  turn,  hurrying  through  her 
questions,  scarcely  waiting  to  hear  the  unusually  imbecile 
answers. 

"  Mr.  Marsden  —  have  you  any  suggestions  to  make  ?  " 

97 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  None,"  said  Marsden,  firmly  and  unhesitatingly.  "  Un- 
less, madam,  you  would  authorise  me  to  break  the  neck  of 
Mr.  Archibald  Bence." 

This  sally  was  received  with  universal  applause  and 
laughter. 

"  Bravo,"  cried  Mr.  Prentice.  "  Take  me  with  you,  my 
boy,  when  you  go  on  that  job." 

"  And  me,  too." 

"  And  I  must  be  there  —  if  it's  only  to  pick  up  the 
remains." 

"  And  to  bury  'em  decently  " 

"  Which  is  more  than  Master  Bence  deserves." 

They  were  all  laughing  heartily  and  happily,  all  talking 
at  once,  gesticulating,  pantomiming.  Even  old  Mears  beat 
upon  the  table  with  a  fork  to  express  his  satisfaction,  and  his 
agreement  with  the  general  feeling. 

All  the  tongues  were  untied  by  the  seasonable  facetious- 
ness  of  Mr.  Marsden.  The  hostess  flashed  a  grateful 
glance  at  him ;  but  he  was  not  looking  in  her  direction.  He 
was  courteously  listening  to  Mr.  Prentice,  who  had  lowered 
his  voice  now  that  things  had  begun  to  go  of  their  own 
accord. 

And  things  continued  to  go  well  for  the  rest  of  the  dinner. 
The  name  of  Bence  had  acted  like  a  charm;  they  all  could 
find  something  to  say  about  the  hated  and  unworthy  ri- 
val, and  their  hitherto  frozen  tongues  now  wagged  un- 
ceasingly. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  wretched  little  starveling  girls  as 
he  puts  into  the  bazaar  at  Christmas?  " 

"  It's  a  disgrace  to  the  town,  importing  such  waifs  and 
strays." 

"  They  tell  me  he  gets  'em  out  of  a  place  in  Whitechapel 
—  and  they're  in  charge  of  a  couple  of  detectives  all  the 
time." 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Yes,  you  bet.  Two  upon  ten,  or  the  poor  little  beggars 
would  prig  his  gimcracks  as  fast  as  he  put  them  out." 

"  I  don't  vouch  for  it  —  but  I  believe  it  myself:  they  had 
three  cases  of  pocket-picking  in  an  hour.  And  it  was  one  of 
his  shop-girls  who  done  it." 

"That's  a  nice  way  of  doing  business!  *  Step  this  way, 
miss,  and  look  at  our  twopenny  'a'penny  toys ' — and  pick  the 
customer's  pocket  as  you  are  serving  her." 

While  they  talked  so  cheerily  and  pleasantly  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son several  times  glanced  down  the  table  at  her  youngest 
manager.  She  need  not  have  dreaded  the  meeting.  He  had 
made  it  quite  easy  for  her.  He  had  proved  that  he  pos- 
sessed the  instincts  of  a  true  gentleman  —  not  a  make- 
believe  gentleman;  he  had  displayed  consideration,  tact, 
good  breeding;  and  by  his  ready  wit  he  had  come  to  her  aid 
and  dissipated  the  dullness  of  her  guests.  She  sat  smiling 
and  nodding  in  the  midst  of  their  lively  chatter,  and  looked 
at  Mr.  Marsden's  strong,  clear-cut  profile.  It  seemed  to 
her  statuesque,  noble,  magnificent ;  and  it  did  not  once  change 
into  a  full  face  during  all  the  time  she  watched  it. 

Now  the  guests  had  eaten  their  dessert,  and  the  hired 
waiters  had  gone  from  the  room.  The  moment  had  come 
for  the  toast. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  "  fill  your  glasses  and 
drink  a  health.  I  give  you  two  people  rolled  into  one  — 
that  is,  the  best  Man  of  business  in  Mallingbridge  and  Mrs. 
Thompson.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Thompson !  " 

"Now,  all  together,"  said  Mr.  Ridgway;  and  he  began 
to  sing.  ' '  For  she's  a  jolly  good  fel-low  '  .  .  . 

"  Please,  please,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  getting  up  from 
her  chair,  and  stopping  the  chorus.  "  No  musical  honours, 
please.  .  .  .  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you.  .  .  .  And 
now  my  daughter  and  I  will  leave  you  to  your  coffee  and 
cigars." 

99 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Then  she  followed  Enid  to  the  door,  and  turned  on  the 
threshold. 

"  Mr.  Prentice,  don't  let  our  guests  want  for  anything. 
.  .  .  Yates  has  put  the  cigars  on  the  side-table." 

In  the  other  room  Enid  walked  over  to  the  piano,  and, 
without  uttering  a  word,  began  to  play. 

"  After  all,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
"  it  didn't  go  off  so  badly." 

"  No,"  said  Enid,  looking  at  her  fingers  as  they  slowly 
struck  the  notes,  "  I  suppose  not." 

"What  is  it  you  are  playing?"  Mrs.  Thompson  asked 
the  question  abruptly. 

"  Chopin." 

"Can't  you  play  anything  gayer?     That's  so  sad." 

"  Is  it  ?     .     .     .     I  don't  feel  very  gay." 

The  plaintive  and  depressing  melody  continued,  while 
Mrs.  Thompson  walked  about  the  room  restlessly.  Then 
she  came  to  the  side  of  the  piano,  and  leaned  her  arm  upon 
the  folded  lid. 

"  Enid.  Stop  playing."  She  spoke  eagerly  and  appeal- 
ingly;  and  Enid,  looking  up,  saw  that  her  eyes  were  wet 
with  tears. 

"  Mother,  what's  the  matter?  " 

"  Everything  is  the  matter ;  "  and  she  stretched  out  her 
hand  above  the  ivory  keys.  "  Enid,  are  you  purposely,  wil- 
fully unkind  to  me?  .  .  .  Where  has  my  child  gone? 
.  .  .  It's  wicked,  and  stupid  of  you.  Because  I  am  try- 
ing to  save  you  from  a  great  folly,  you  give  me  these  cold, 
tones ;  day  after  day,  you  —  you  treat  me  as  a  stranger  and 
an  enemy." 

"  Mother,  I  am  sorry.  But  you  must  know  what  I  feel 
about  it.  ...  Is  it  any  good  going  over  the  ground 


again  ?  " 


100 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Yes,  it  is  good,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  impetuously;  and 
she  withdrew  the  hand  that  had  vainly  invited  another  hand 
to  clasp  it.  "  You  and  I  must  come  to  terms.  This  sort 
of  thing  is  what  I  can't  stand  —  what  I  won't  stand." 
With  a  vigorous  gesture  she  brushed  away  her  tears,  and 
began  to  walk  about  the  room  again. 

Enid  was  looking  down  her  long  nose  at  the  key-board; 
and  her  whole  face  expressed  the  sheep-like  but  unshakable 
obstinacy  that  she  had  inherited  from  her  stupid  father. 

"  Mother,"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  told  you  at  the  very 
beginning  that  I  could  never  give  him  up." 

Then  Yates  brought  in  the  coffee. 

"  Put  it  down  there,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  "  and  leave 
us." 

And  Yates,  with  shrewd  and  rather  scared  glances  at 
mother  and  daughter,  went  out  again. 

"I  don't  believe  —  I  know  that  this  man  is  not  worthy 
of  you.  I  won't  tell  you  how  meanly  I  think  of  him." 

"  No,  please  don't  speak  against  him  any  more.  You 
have  done  that  so  often  already." 

"  And  haven't  I  the  right  to  state  my  opinion  —  and  to 
act  on  it,  too  ?  Am  I  not  your  mother  ?  Can  I  forget  that 
—  even  if  you  forget  it  ?  " 

"  Mother,  I  haven't  forgotten.  I  remember  all  your 
goodness  —  up  to  now." 

"  Mr.  Kenion  simply  wants  the  money  that  I  could  give 
you,  if  I  pleased." 

"  He  only  wants  us  to  have  just  sufficient  to  live  on." 

"  The  money  is  his  first  aim." 

"  Mother,  if  that  were  true,  nothing  would  ever  make 
me  believe  it." 

"  No  doubt  he  is  fond  of  you  —  in  a  way.  .  .  .  Enid, 
I  implore  you  not  to  harden  yourself  against  me.  .  .  . 
Of  course  he  is  attracted  by  you.  Who  wouldn't  be?  You 

101 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

are  young  and  charming  —  with  every  grace  and  spell  to 
win  men's  love.  Any  man  should  love  you  —  and  other  men 
will.  ...  Be  reasonable  —  be  brave.  It  isn't  as  if  you 
could  possibly  feel  that  this  was  the  last  chance  —  the  last 
offer  of  love  in  a  woman's  life." 

"  Mother,  it  must  always  be  the  last  chance  —  the  only 
chance,  when  one  has  set  one's  heart  on  it." 

"  Set  your  heart!  "  cried  Mrs.  Thompson,  vehemently  and 
passionately.  "Your  heart?  You  haven't  got  a  heart  — 
or  you  couldn't,  you  couldn't  make  me  so  miserably  un- 
happy as  you  are  doing  now." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  —  but  I  share  the  unhappiness,  don't  I  ? 
Mother,  I,  too,  am  most  miserably  unhappy." 

Mrs.  Thompson  was  pacing  to  and  fro  rapidly  and  ex- 
citedly; her  bosom  heaved,  and  the  words  were  beginning 
to  pour  out  with  explosive  force. 

"  He  is  everything  then  —  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  to 
you;  and  I  am  a  cipher.  The  mother  who  bore  you  counts 
for  less  than  any  Tom,  Dick,  or  Harry  who  puts  his  arms 
round  your  waist  and  pulls  your  silly  face  towards  him." 

"Mother!" 

"Yes,  mother!  That's  my  name  still  —  and  you  use  it 
from  habit.  Only  the  fact  —  the  plain  meaning  of  the  word 
is  gone." 

"  Mother,  they'll  hear  you  in  the  other  room." 

"  But  I'm  not  a  woman  to  be  ignored  and  slighted  — 
and  pushed  aside.  There's  nothing  of  the  patient  Griselda 
in  my  nature.  I  am  what  I  am  —  all  alive  still  —  not  done 
for,  and  on  the  shelf.  I  have  subordinated  my  life  to  yours 
—  let  you  rule  it  how  you  chose.  But  you  must  rule  it  by 
kindness  —  not  by  cold  looks  and  cutting  words.  I  don't 
submit  to  that  —  I  won't  submit  to  it." 

"  Mother  dear,  I  have  told  you  how  grateful  I  am." 

"And  gratitude  —  as  you  understand  it  —  is  no  use  to 

102 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

me,  I've  a  right  —  yes,  a  right  to  your  affection  —  the 
natural  affection  that  I've  striven  to  retain,  that  I've  done 
nothing  to  forfeit." 

"  No,  no.     Mother  dear,  you  have  my  affection." 

"  Then  what's  it  worth  ?  Not  much  —  no,  not  very 
much,  if  the  first  time  I  appeal  to  your  sense  of  duty  too, 
it  isn't  to  be  found.  I  tell  you  not  to  be  a  fool  —  and  you 
swear  I  am  wrecking  your  life.  I'm  the  villain  of  your 
trumpery  little  drama  —  plotting  and  scheming  to  frustrate 
your  love  and  spoil  your  life.  That's  too  rich  —  that's  too 
good,  altogether  too  good." 

The  expression  of  Enid's  face  had  changed  from  obstinacy 
to  alarm.  She  watched  her  mother  apprehensively,  and 
stammered  some  calming  phrases. 

"  Mother  dear,  I'm  sorry.  Don't,  don't  get  excited  — • 
or  I'm  sure  they'll  hear  us  in  the  other  room." 

"Your  life,  yes.  And  what  about  my  life?"  The 
words  were  pouring  out  in  an  unchecked  torrent.  "  Look 
back  at  my  life  and  see  what  it  has  been.  You're  twenty- 
two,  aren't  you?  And  I  was  that  age  more  than  twenty- 
two  years  ago  —  and  all  the  twenty- two  years  I've  given 
you.  Something  for  something  —  not  something  for  noth- 
ing. We  traders  like  fair  exchange  —  but  you've  put 
yourself  above  all  that.  .  .  .  No,  leave  me  alone. 
Don't  touch  me,  since  you  have  ceased  to  care  for 
me." 

Enid  had  come  from  the  piano,  and  was  endeavouring 
to  subdue  the  emotional  explosion  by  a  soothing  caress. 

"Leave  me  to  myself  —  leave  me  alone.  I'm  nothing 
to  you  —  and  you  know  it." 

Enid's  caress  was  roughly  repulsed;  and  Mrs.  Thompson 
sat  upon  the  sofa,  hid  her  flushed  face  upon  her  arms,  and 
burst  into  a  fit  of  almost  hysterical  sobbing. 

"Mother,  mother  —  don't,  please  don't;"  and  Enid  sat 

103 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

beside  her,  patted  her  shoulder,  and  begged  her  quickly  to 
compose  herself  lest  the  gentlemen  should  come  and  see  her 
in  her  distress. 

"  It's  so  cruel,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Thompson.  "  And  now  — 
now  of  all  times,  I  can't  bear  it.  ...  But  I  mustn't 
let  myself  go  like  this.  I  daren't  give  way  like  this." 

Then  very  soon  her  broad  back  ceased  to  shake;  the  con- 
vulsing gasping  sobs  were  suppressed,  and  she  sat  up  and 
dried  her  eyes. 

"Enid,  have  I  made  a  horrible  fright  of  myself?"  And 
she  rose  from  the  sofa,  and  went  to  look  in  the  glass  over 
the  fireplace.  The  tears  had  left  little  trace;  the  reflection 
in  the  glass  reassured  her. 

She  was  comparatively  calm  when  she  returned  to  the 
sofa  and  sat  down  again. 

"  Enid,  my  dear,  I'm  ashamed  to  have  been  betrayed 
into  such  weakness,"  and  she  smiled  piteously.  "  But  you 
have  tested  me  too  severely  of  late  —  since  this  unlucky 
affair  began.  I  have  thought  myself  strong  enough;  but 
the  strongest  things  have  their  snapping  point  —  even  iron 
and  steel;  —  and  I  am  only  flesh  and  blood.  .  .  .  You 
don't  understand,  but  I  warn  you  that  I  need  the  sympathy 
and  the  kindness  which  you  withhold  from  me.  ...  Be 
nice  to  me  —  be  kind  to  me." 

But  Enid  was  trying  now.  Tears  trickled  down  her 
narrow  face.  The  strange  sight  of  her  mother's  violent 
and  explosive  distress  had  quite  overcome  her. 

"  I  do  try  to  do  what's  right,"  she  whimpered. 

"  Yes,  my  darling  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  tenderly. 
"And  so  do  I.  It's  all  summed  up  in  that.  We  must  do 
what's  right  and  wise  —  not  just  what  seems  easy  and 
delightful.  There.  There.  .  .  .  Use  my  handker- 
chief; "  and  in  her  turn  she  reminded  Enid  that  the  gentle- 
men would  be  with  them  at  any  minute. 

104 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Mother,  when  you  ask  me  to  give  him  up,  it's  more 
than  I  can  do." 

"  But  would  I  ask  you  if  I  wasn't  certain  —  as  certain 
as  I  can  be  of  anything  in  the  world  —  that  you  could 
never  be  happy  with  him?  You'd  be  risking  a  lifetime's 
regret." 

"  I  am  ready  to  take  the  risk.     Don't  come  between  us." 

"  Enid,  my  dearest  —  my  own  Enid,  trust  me  —  trust 
the  mother  who  has  never,  never  thwarted  you  till  now. 
You  know  I'm  not  selfish  —  not  greedy  of  money.  Truly 
I  have  only  worked  for  you.  .  .  .  And  think  —  though 
I  hate  to  say  it  —  of  the  many  —  the  many,  many  things  I 
have  given  up  for  your  sake.  It  wasn't  difficult  perhaps  — 
because  you  were  everything  on  earth  to  me.  But  any  mid- 
dle-aged woman  who  knew  my  life  would  tell  you  that  I 
have  made  great  sacrifices  —  and  all  for  you." 

"  I  know  you  have,  mother.  It's  dreadful  to  think  of 
how  you  have  worked,  year  after  year." 

"  Then  can't  you  make  this  one  sacrifice  for  me  ?  " 

"  If  it  was  anything  else;  "  and  Enid  sniffed,  and  another 
tear  or  two  began  to  trickle.  "  If  it  was  anything  else, 
I'd  obey  you  implicitly  —  and  know  it  was  my  duty." 

"  Why  isn't  it  your  duty  now?  " 

"  Because  this  is  so  different." 

"  Enid,  stop.     Don't  say  any  more." 

"  But,  mother  dear,  do  understand  what  I  mean." 

"  Yes,  I  understand  too  well." 

"  I'm  not  ungrateful.  If  you  called  on  me  to  pay  back 
some  of  my  debt,  I'd  work  for  you  till  I  dropped.  I'd 
try  to  make  every  sort  of  sacrifice  that  you  have  made  for 
me.  But  when  it  comes  to  a  woman's  love,  she  can't  sac- 
rifice herself." 

"  Then,  by  God,  I'll  take  you  at  your  word." 

Mrs.  Thompson  had  sprung  up  from  the  sofa;  and  once 
105 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

more  she  paced  to  and  fro,  a  prey  to  an  increasing  excite- 
ment. 

"Mother?     You'll  consent?" 

"  Yes  —  I  consent.  A  woman  can't  sacrifice  her  love ! 
Very  good.  So  be  it.  That's  your  law.  Then  obey  it  — 
and,  as  there's  a  God  in  Heaven,  I'll  obey  it,  too." 

The  gentlemen,  leaving  their  dinner  table,  heard  the  raised 
voice,  and  paused  in  surprise  outside  the  drawing-room  door. 
When  they  entered  the  room,  Mrs.  Thompson,  with  blazing 
cheeks  and  flashing  eyes,  turned  towards  them  and  gazed 
eagerly  through  the  open  doorway. 

"  Mr.  Marsden,  where  are  you?     Come  here." 

Marsden  went  to  her  quickly;  and  she  drew  him  away 
to  the  curtained  windows,  and  spoke  in  an  eager  whisper. 

"  Did  you  mean  what  you  told  me  by  the  river?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  mean  it  still  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  On  your  honour  as  a  man,  is  that  true?  " 

"  Yes." 

Then  she  took  his  right  hand  in  her  two  hands,  and  held 
it  tightly. 

"  Gentlemen  —  listen  to  me,  please ;  "  and  she  spoke  with 
feverish  resolution.  "  This  is  not  perhaps  an  opportune 
moment  for  making  the  announcement  —  but  I  want  you  to 
know,  I  want  all  my  friends  to  know  without  further  delay 
that  Mr.  Marsden  and  I  are  engaged  to  be  married." 

Silence  like  a  dead  weight  seemed  to  fall  upon  the  room. 

Enid  had  uttered  a  half-stifled  exclamation  of  horror,  but 
blank  amazement  rendered  the  guests  dumb.  Mr.  Pren- 
tice, who  had  become  apoplectically  red,  opened  and  shut 
his  mouth;  but  no  sound  issued  from  it.  Mr.  Mears,  with 
bowed  head  and  heavily  hanging  arms,  stared  at  the  carpet. 

106 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Gradually  every  eye  sank,  and  all  were  staring  downwards 
—  as  if  unable  to  support  the  sight  of  the  couple  who  stood 
hand  in  hand  before  them. 

At  last  Mr.  Ridgway  tried  to  say  something;  and  then 
Mr.  Fentiman  feebly  echoed  his  words. 

"  You  have  taken  our  breath  away,  madam.  But  it  be- 
hoves us  to  —  ah  —  congratu  —  to  felicitate." 

"  Or  to  proffer  our  good  wishes." 

"  And  our  best  hopes." 

But  Mrs.  Thompson  did  not  look  at  them  or  listen  to 
them.  Marsden  was  speaking  to  her  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes.  Every  word.  Every  word.  I  meant  all 
I  said  then  —  and  I  mean  it  a  thousand  times  more  now. 
You  are  making  me  the  proudest  of  mortals  —  but  don't  for- 
get one  thing." 

"What?" 

"  Why,  all  I  said  about  the  difficulties  —  the,  the  in- 
equality of  our  position,  which  must  somehow  be  got  rid  of. 
But  of  course  you've  thought  it  out." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  She  was  gazing  at  him  with 
love  and  admiration;  but  an  intense  anxiety  came  into  her 
eyes. 

"  Well,  I  mean  exactly  what  I  said  then.  Nothing  can 
change  my  mind.  But,  as  I  told  you,  I  can't  have  all  the 
world  pointing  at  me  as  a  penniless  adventurer  who  has 
caught  a  rich  wife.  .  .  .  But  you've  planned  —  you 
mean  to  prevent  — " 

His  eyes  did  not  meet  hers.  She  dropped  his  hand,  and 
looked  at  him  now  with  a  passionate,  yearning  intentness. 

"  Go  on  —  quickly.     Say  what  it  is  that  you  mean." 

"  I  mean,  it  is  to  be  a  thorough  partnership  —  husband 
and  wife  on  an  equal  footing.  You  mean  it,  too,  don't  you? 
Partners  in  love  and  partners  in  everything  else!  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  after  a  scarcely  perceptible  hesitation. 
8  107 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  I  did  mean  that.     You  have  anticipated  what  I  intended." 

"  My  sweetheart  and  my  wife."  As  he  whispered  the 
words,  her  whole  face  lit  up  with  triumphant  joy.  "I 
knew  that  you  meant  it  all  along.  And  I'm  the  happiest 
proudest  man  that  ever  lived.  .  .  .  Now  you'd  better 
tell  them.  Let  them  know  that,  too." 

Again  she  hesitated.  She  was  in  a  fever  of  excitement, 
with  all  real  thought  obliterated  by  the  flood  of  emotion; 
and  yet  perhaps  already,  though  unconsciously  to  herself,  she 
had  attained  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  fatal  nature  of 
her  mistake. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  tell  them  now  —  at  once  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  gaily.  "  No  time  like  the  present.  Let 
them  know  how  my  dear  wife  and  I  mean  to  stand  —  and 
then  there'll  be  nothing  for  anybody  to  chatter  about." 

"  Very  well." 

"  That's  right ; "  and  he  gently  drew  her  round  towards 
her  audience.  "  That's  our  way  —  side  by  side,  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  you  and  I,  facing  the  world." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  firmly,  "  there's  an- 
other thing  that  I  must  add  to  what  I  have  said.  Mr. 
Marsden,  when  he  comes  into  this  house  as  my  husband, 
will  come  into  the  business  as  my  partner." 

Marsden,  with  his  head  raised  and  his  shoulders  squared, 
stood  boldly  smiling  at  the  silent  men. 


XI 

SHE  was  conscious  that  the  whole  world  had  turned 
against  her;  in  every  face  she  could  read  her  condemnation; 
when  she  drove  through  High  Street  she  felt  like  a  deposed 
monarch  —  hats  were  still  removed,  but  with  pitying  cour- 
tesy instead  of  with  loyal  fervour.  Constraint  and  em- 
barrassment sounded  in  every  fresh  voice  to  which  she  lis- 
tened. Mr.  Prentice,  taking  her  instructions,  assumed  a 
ridiculously  hollow  cheerfulness,  as  if  he  had  been  speaking 
to  somebody  who  had  contracted  an  incurable  disease.  The 
shop  staff  dared  not  look  at  her,  and  yet  could  not  look 
away  from  her  with  any  air  of  naturalness;  up  and  down 
the  counters  male  and  female  assistants,  so  soon  as  she 
appeared,  became  preposterously  busy;  and  she  knew  that 
they  avoided  meeting  her  eyes.  She  knew  also  that  the 
moment  she  had  passed,  their  eyes  followed  her  —  they  were 
at  once  frightened  and  fascinated,  as  if  she  had  been  a  person 
who  had  confessed  to  a  great  crime,  who  was  still  at  large, 
but  who  would  be  arrested  almost  immediately. 

During  the  first  few  days  of  her  engagement  she  suffered 
under  the  heavy  sense  that  every  friend  had  abandoned  her. 
In  street,  shop,  or  house,  she  could  find  no  comforter.  Even 
Yates  was  cruel. 

"Why  do  you  look  so  glum?"  At  last  she  roundly  up- 
braided Yates.  "  Don't  wait  upon  me  at  all,  if  you  can 
only  do  it  as  though  you  were  going  to  a  funeral." 

Yates,  in  sorrowful  tones  said  that  her  glumness  was 
caused  by  her  thoughts. 

109 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Then  Mrs.  Thompson  piteously  prayed  for  support  from 
the  old  servant. 

"  Are  you  going  to  drive  me  mad  among  you  —  make  me 
commit  suicide?  Oh,  Yates,  do  stand  by  me." 

And  Yates  wept,  and  swore  that  henceforth  she  would 
stand  by  her  mistress. 

"  Say  you  think  I'm  right  in  what  I'm  doing." 

"  I'll  say  this,  ma'am  —  that  no  one  should  be  the  judge 
except  you  of  what's  right.  No  one  hasn't  any  qualification 
to  interfere  with  you  in  what  you  please  to  do." 

"  But,  Yates,  say  you  approve  of  it." 

"  Well  then,  I  do  say  it." 

Yates  said  that  she  approved;  but  no  one  else  said  so. 
Enid  did  not  pretend  to  approve  —  although  she  talked  very 
little  about  her  mother's  plans.  She  had  obtained  the  de- 
sire of  her  own  heart;  she  and  Mr.  Kenion  were  to  be 
made  one  as  soon  as  possible;  she  was  buying  her  trous- 
seau, and  Mr.  Prentice  was  drawing  the  marriage  settle- 
ment. 

Both  marriages  were  to  be  pushed  on  rapidly.  No  time 
like  the  present,  as  Marsden  joyously  declared.  "  What's 
the  good  of  waiting,  when  you  have  made  up  your  mind  ?  " 
But  Enid  was  to  be  cleared  out  of  the  way  first;  and  not 
till  Enid  had  left  the  little  house  could  her  mother  throw 
herself  completely  into  her  own  dream  of  bliss. 

There  were  some  trifling  difficulties,  some  slight  delays. 
Mr.  Kenion,  as  one  about  to  become  a  member  of  the  fam- 
ily, frankly  confessed  that  he  viewed  the  Marsden  alliance 
with  repugnance.  He  told  Mr.  Prentice  that  it  altered  the 
whole  condition  of  affairs,  that  his  relatives  begged  him  to 
stand  out  for  a  much  more  liberal  settlement  than  would 
previously  have  appeared  to  be  ample;  and  he  hinted  on  his 
own  account  that  if  Mrs.  Thompson  didn't  stump  up,  he 
would  feel  justified  in  withdrawing  altogether.  Mr.  Pren- 

no 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

tice,  however,  made  short  work  of  this  suitor's  questionings 
and  threatenings.  He  did  not  mention  that,  on  the  strong 
advice  of  Mr.  Marsden,  his  client  had  largely  cut  down 
the  proposed  amount;  but  he  said  that  in  his  own  opinion 
the  settlement  was  quite  ample. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Kenion,  "  what  we  get  now  is  all  we 
shall  ever  get.  I  don't  value  Enid's  further  expectations 
at  a  brass  farthing." 

"  That's  as  it  may  be.  Possibly  you  are  wise  in  not 
building  on  the  future.  But  my  instructions  merely  con- 
cern the  present.  As  to  the  amount  decided  on  by  my 
client,  whether  big  or  little  —  well,  it  is  to  take  or  leave." 

Charlie  Kenion,  lounging  deep  in  one  of  the  solicitor's 
leather  armchairs,  said  that  he  would  take  it. 

At  this  period  Mr.  Prentice  also  received  visits  from 
the  other  suitor.  Marsden  called  several  times,  to  talk  about 
the  terms  of  his  partnership,  and  to  urge  the  importance  of 
not  overdoing  it  with  regard  to  the  provision  for  Enid. 
These  marriage  settlements,  he  reminded  the  solicitor,  are 
irrevocable  things  —  what  you  put  into  them  you  can't  get 
out  of  them.  Nothing  ever  comes  back  to  you.  A  woman 
in  Mrs.  Thompson's  position  should  therefore  exercise  some 
caution.  She  is  rich  now,  but  she  may  not  always  be  so 
rich;  she  must  not  give  away  more  than  she  can  spare;  it 
is  folly  not  to  keep  a  reserve  fund. 

Then,  when  paying  his  last  call  before  his  departure  for 
London,  he  slid  very  naturally  from  the  subject  of  Enid's 
settlement  to  a  vague  question  about  a  settlement  in  his  own 
case.  Was  there  any  idea  of  making  a  permanent  provision 
for  him? 

"  Of  course  there  is.     You  are  to  be  a  partner." 

That  of  course  was  understood,  but  Marsden  had  some 
doubt  as  to  whether  there  were  other  intentions. 

"  I  am  only  asking,"  he  said  pleasantly.  "  I  leave  my- 
iii 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

self  entirely  in  your  hands  —  and  I'd  like  to  say  that  I've 
the  utmost  confidence  in  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Prentice  drily. 

"  These  settlements  seem  the  usual  things  in  marriages  — 
so  I  thought  the  rule  would  apply  to  my  marriage." 

"  In  your  marriage,  Mr.  Marsden,  there  is  very  little 
that  is  usual  —  but,  nevertheless,  I  think  the  usual  rules 
should  apply." 

"  You  do  ?  You  think  some  moderate  settlement  would 
be  proper." 

"  Very  proper  indeed  —  if  you  have  anything  to  settle. 
By  giving  you  a  half  share  in  her  business  Mrs.  Thompson 
is  treating  you  with  a  generosity  —  a  munificence  —  an  un- 
precedented munificence  — " 

"  Oh,  I  know  she  is." 

"And  if  therefore  you  on  your  side  can  make  a  settle- 
ment—  however  moderate  —  in  her  favour,  it  will  be  a 
graceful  and  a  natural  act." 

Marsden  laughed,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  That's  very  funny  —  very  neatly  put.  But  I  see  what 
you  mean.  You  think  I  ought  not  to  have  made  the  sug- 
gestion." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  obviously  meaning,  "  Oh, 
yes." 

"  I  fancied  that  she  herself  might  wish  it ;  but  I  haven't 
said  a  word  about  it  to  her.  .  .  .  Don't  mention  it  to 
her.  .  .  .  Good  morning." 

Meanwhile  Enid  was  collecting  garments,  hats,  frills,  and 
feathers.  She  had  been  given  unlimited  scope;  prices  need 
not  be  scrutinized;  the  best  London  shops,  as  well  as 
Thompson's,  were  open  to  her;  and  she  went  about  her  busi- 
ness in  a  commendably  business-like  fashion.  She  did  not 
require  Mrs.  Thompson's  advice  —  she  knew  exactly  what 
she  wanted. 

112 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

When  those  few  trickling  tears  had  been  dried  and  the 
bombshell-tidings  of  her  mother's  engagement  had  burst  upon 
her  with  such  appalling  violence,  she  hardened  and  grew 
cold  again.  Nothing  now  would  soften  her. 

She  calmly  announced  that  Charles  had  been  lucky 
enough  to  find  just  the  house  they  wished  for  —  a  farmhouse 
recently  converted  into  a  gentleman's  residence,  with  some 
land  and  excellent  stabling,  eight  miles  from  Mailing- 
bridge,  between  Haggart's  Cross  and  Chapel-Norton;  but 
she  did  not  invite  Mrs.  Thompson  to  inspect  the  prem- 
ises, or  even  to  examine  the  patterns  of  the  new  wall- 
papers. 

She  disgusted  Mr.  Prentice  by  her  obstinate  support  of 
her  future  husband  in  his  final  contention  that  the  life 
interest  given  to  him  under  the  settlement  should  be  abso- 
lute and  inalienable.  Mr.  Prentice  naturally  desired  to 
protect  her  from  obvious  dangers;  but,  instead  of  strength- 
ening his  hands,  she  idiotically  declared  her  wish  to  com- 
pliment Kenion  by  an  exhibition  of  blind  confidence. 

"It  must  be  as  Enid  wishes,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson;  and 
Mr.  Prentice  was  forced  to  give  way. 

The  days  were  racing  by.  Mornings  had  a  snap  of  frost 
in  the  air;  autumn  rains  brought  the  yellow  leaves  tum- 
bling from  the  churchyard  elms,  and  autumn  winds  sent 
them  spinning  and  eddying  over  the  iron  railings  into  St. 
Saviour's  Court.  Very  soon  now  October  would  be  here  — 
and  on  the  first  day  of  October  the  church  bells  were  to 
ring  for  Enid  Thompson,  spinster,  of  this  parish. 

Mrs.  Thompson  heard  the  banns  read;  but  she  could 
not  hear  the  other  banns  in  which  the  name  of  Thompson 
was  again  mumbled.  Her  emotion  made  the  sound  of  the 
parson's  voice  inaudible  to  her. 

One  afternoon  she  saw  Yates  carrying  up  a  large  card- 
board box  to  Enid's  dressing-room,  and  the  printed  label  on 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

the  box  gave  her  a  stab  of  pain.  Bence  Brothers!  Enid, 
pressed  for  time,  or  now  careless  of  how  often  she  wounded 
her  mother's  sensibilities,  had  gone  across  the  road  to  buy 
her  ultimate  batch  of  fal-lals. 

Then  one  morning  —  a  dull,  grey  first  of  October  — 
Enid  offered  her  cheek  to  her  mother's  lips. 

"  I  hope  you'll  be  very  happy,  mother."  These  were  her 
last  words. 

The  rooks,  startled  by  the  clashing  bells,  flew  up  from 
the  tops  of  the  churchyard  trees;  the  misty  air  vibrated  as  the 
organ  rolled  out  its  voluminous  music;  the  keen,  sharp- 
edged  wind  blew  the  dead  leaves  down  the  court  and  past 
the  house ;  —  and  Enid  was  blown  away  with  them,  into  her 
lover's  arms  and  out  of  her  mother's  life,  as  it  seemed,  for- 
ever. 


The  days  were  swinging  in  a  mad  whirl;  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son had  entered  upon  her  feverish  dream;  and  nothing  out- 
side herself  seemed  of  any  consequence  to  her  now  —  except 
the  man  who  was  to  be  her  husband. 

He  was  in  London,  well  supplied  with  cash  for  his 
immediate  necessities,  and  he  would  not  return  until  he  came 
to  lead  her  to  the  altar.  Several  times  she  ran  up  to  Lon- 
don with  Yates,  bought  trousseau  all  the  morning,  and  then, 
casting  off  Yates,  had  luncheon  with  him  at  some  smart 
restaurant. 

A  first  glance  told  her  that  he  was  more  splendid  than 
any  other  man  in  the  building,  and  then  everything  about 
and  beyond  him  became  vague  and  dim  and  unsubstantial. 
She  could  see  nothing  else.  Light  and  sound  mingled ;  past 
and  present  fused,  to  make  a  panoramic  changing  background 
in  front  of  which  he  could  stand  out  more  solidly  and 
brilliantly.  She  heard  the  wheels  of  the  train  that  had 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

brought  her  to  him,  and  at  the  same  time  she  heard  the 
waltz  played  by  this  restaurant  band;  she  was  surrounded 
by  meaningless  figures,  from  the  field  of  vision  and  the  fog 
of  memory;  close  to  her  sat  fashionable  people  at  little 
tables;  —  but  among  them  and  through  them  moved  the 
people  she  had  seen  in  the  open  street,  at  the  dressmaker's, 
to-day,  yesterday,  or  a  year  ago. 

But  there  was  nothing  vague  or  uncertain  about  him: 
he  was  overpoweringly,  gloriously  distinct.  She  could  see 
every  thread  in  his  lovely  new  clothes,  every  hair  in  his 
perfumed,  carefully  brushed  moustache,  each  tiny  speck  of 
brown  on  the  liquid  amber  of  his  eyes.  From  those  eyes, 
as  she  knew  so  well,  he  could  shoot  the  darts  of  flame 
that  lodged  a  burning  distress  in  one's  breast,  as  easily  as 
he  could  send  forth  the  gentle  caressing  beams  that  made 
one  slowly  melt  in  ecstasy. 

His  glance  was  always  softly  caressing  now,  soothing  her, 
calming  her,  filling  her  with  joy. 

She  could  not  eat.  She  could  only  look  at  him  while 
he  ate,  with  hearty  youthful  vigour,  quite  enough  for  two. 
She  drank  a  glassful  out  of  his  bottle  of  wine,  and  found 
an  incredible  delight  in  watching  him  drink  the  remainder. 
The  waiter  put  the  programme  of  the  day's  music  by  her 
side;  but  it  did  not  matter  what  the  band  played.  Her 
music  —  the  only  significant  music  —  was  in  her  sweetheart's 
voice.  He  called  her  Janey,  Little  woman,  My  kind  fairy; 
and  each  time  that  he  spoke  to  her  thus  endearingly  she 
thrilled  with  rapture. 

"  Well,  Janey,  what  do  you  think  of  my  new  coat  ?  I 
look  all  right,  don't  I?  You  are  not  ashamed  to  be  seen 
with  me  —  eh,  little  woman  ?  .  .  .  And  how's  Mailing- 
bridge?  What  do  they  say  of  me  down  there?  .  .  . 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  I  haven't  thanked  my  kind  fairy  for 
the  present  she  sent  me  yesterday.  It's  a  dressing-case  fit 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

for  a  king;"  and  then  he  laughed  gaily.  "  Janey,  take 
care.  You  are  trying  to  spoil  me." 

Sometimes  for  a  moment  he  held  her  hand  under  the 
table-cloth,  and  pressed  it  lovingly. 

When  the  luncheon  was  over  she  was  glad  to  notice 
that  he  tipped  the  waiter  liberally.  It  would  have  been  irk- 
some to  her,  as  a  prodigious  tipper,  to  observe  any  economy 
—  but  Marsden  gave  almost  as  much  as  if  she  herself  had 
taken  the  money  out  of  the  purse.  She  used  to  hand  him 
her  purse  as  they  went  into  the  restaurant,  and  he  gave  it 
back  to  her  as  they  came  out  again. 

Serving-girls  at  the  fashionable  London  shops  were  in- 
•clined  to  smile  while  they  waited  upon  Mrs.  Thompson 
choosing  her  nuptial  finery.  She  seemed  to  them  so  inno- 
cent —  appealing  to  them  with  simple  trustfulness,  and  beg- 
ging them  to  show  her  not  merely  pretty  things,  but  the 
things  that  gentlemen  would  think  pretty. 

In  truth,  all  her  business  faculty  had  temporarily  for- 
saken her;  the  strong  will,  the  quick  insight,  the  grit  and 
the  grip  were  gone;  the  experience  of  long  years  had  been 
washed  out:  she  was  an  inexperienced  girl  again,  with  all  a 
girl's  tremors,  joyous  hopes,  and  nameless  fears  for  the 
future. 

Her  fingers  shook  as  she  smoothed  and  patted  the  won- 
derful underclothes  offered  by  a  famous  lingerie  establish- 
ment; and  as  old  Yates,  sitting  by  the  side  of  her  mistress, 
gave  a  casting  vote  for  this  or  that  daintily  laced  garment, 
the  lingerie  young  woman  was  obliged  to  turn  a  slim  back 
in  order  to  conceal  her  mirth.  Perhaps  it  would  have  made 
her  cry  if  she  could  have  understood.  But  no  one  could 
see  the  poignantly  touching  truth,  that  beneath  the  beaded 
mantle  of  this  reddish,  stoutish,  middle-aged  customer,  a 
maiden's  heart  was  fondly  beating. 

"  You  know,  Yates,  I'm  not  so  stupid  as  to  suppose  that 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

I  shall  always  be  able  to  keep  him  tied  to  my  apron  strings." 
This  was  in  the  train,  when  they  were  returning  to  Mailing- 
bridge  after  an  arduous  day's  shopping.  They  had  the  com- 
partment to  themselves,  and  they  nearly  filled  it  with  their 
parcels.  "  Men  must  be  allowed  freedom  and  liberty." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  bachelor  gentlemen.  But  I'm  not  so  sure 
about  too  much  liberty  for  married  gentlemen." 

"  They  can't  be  continually  cooped  up  in  their  home  — 
however  comfortable  you  make  it  for  them.  No,  many 
happy  marriages  are  upset  by  the  wife's  silliness  —  in  think- 
ing that  a  husband  is  forever  to  be  dancing  attendance  on 
her.  I  shan't  commit  that  error." 

"  No,  ma'am.  Of  course  it  isn't  as  if  it  was  your  first 
time." 

Truly,  however,  it  was  her  first  time.  The  recollection 
of  the  dead  husband  and  the  loveless  marriage  made  her 
wince. 

"  A  little  tact,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  A  wife  —  especially 
in  the  early  days  —  is  called  on  for  a  little  tact." 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  you'll  manage  him  all  right  —  with  your 
knowledge  of  the  world." 

But  her  knowledge  of  the  world  had  gone,  and  she  did 
not  wish  it  back  again.  Each  time  that  for  a  brief  space 
she  thought  logically  and  clearly,  doubt  and  fear  tortured 
her. 

In  the  night  fear  used  to  come.  Suddenly  her  rainbow- 
tinted  dream  disintegrated,  fell  into  shreds  and  patches  of 
cloud  with  wisps  of  coloured  light  that  gyrated  and  faded; 
and  then  she  lay  staring  at  the  blank  wall  of  hard  facts. 
This  thing  was  monstrous  —  no  valid  hope  of  permanent 
happiness  in  it. 

And  she  thought  with  dreadful  clearness  that  she  was 
either  not  young  enough  or  not  old  enough  for  such  a  mar- 
riage. If  she  had  been  ten  years  older,  it  would  not  have 

117 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

mattered  —  It  would  be  just  a  legalized  companionship  — 
an  easier  arrangement,  but  essentially  the  same  thing  as 
though  she  had  adopted  him  as  her  son.  But  now  it  must  be 
a  real  marriage  —  or  a  most  tragic  failure.  He  had  made 
her  believe  that  the  realm  of  passion  and  love  was  not 
closed  to  her;  that  he  would  give  her  back  what  the  years 
had  taken  from  her;  that  she  might  drink  at  the  fountain 
of  his  youth  and  so  renew  her  own. 

In  the  dark  cold  night  when  the  dream  vanished,  fear 
ruled  over  her.  The  words  of  the  marriage  service  —  heard 
so  lately  —  echoed  in  her  ears.  Solemnization  or  sacrament 

—  it  is  impious,  blasphemous  to  enter  God's  house  and  ask 
for  a  blessing  on  the  bond,  unless  the  marriage  falls  within 
the  limits  of  nature's  laws.     She  remembered  what  the  priest 
says  about  the  causes  for  which  matrimony  was  ordained; 
she  remembered  what  the  woman  has  to  say  about  God's  holy 
ordinance;  and  best  of  all  she  remembered  what  the  man, 
taught  by  the  priest,  says  when  he  slips  the  ring  on  the 
woman's  finger. 

"  With  my  body  I  thee  worship !  "  .  .  .  Could  it  be 
possible?  "Taught  by  the  Priest" — yes,  but  the  man 
should  need  no  teaching.  The  words  on  his  lips  should  be 
the  light  rippling  murmur  above  the  strong-flowing  stream 
of  his  secret  thoughts,  and  the  stream  must  be  fed  by  deep 
springs  of  perfectly  normal  love.  Nothing  less  will  satisfy, 
nothing  less  can  satisfy  the  hungry  heart  that  is  surrender- 
ing itself  to  his  power.  Respect,  esteem,  steadfast  affection 

—  none  of  that  will  do.     It  must  be  love,  or  nothing. 

Yet  after  each  of  these  troubled  nights  the  day  brought 
back  her  dream. 

Yates  had  promised  to  stand  by  her,  and  she  faithfully 
kept  the  promise.  She  gave  homely,  well-meant  advice; 
occasionally  administered  a  little  dose  of  pain  in  what  was 

118 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

intended  for  a  sedative  or  stimulant;  but  was  always  ready 
with  sympathy,  even  when  she  failed  to  supply  consolation 
and  encouragement.  Apparently  forgetting  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  hour  that  she  herself  was  an  old  spinster,  she 
spoke  with  extreme  confidence  of  all  the  mysteries  of  the 
marriage  state. 

There  was  uneasiness  about  little  secrets  concerning  Mrs. 
Thompson's  toilet ;  but  Yates  made  light  of  them. 

"  Oh,  nonsense,"  said  Yates.  "  It  isn't  as  if  you  were 
like  some  of  these  meretrishis  ladies  with  nothing  genuine 
about  'em.  You're  all  genuine  —  and  not  a  grey  hair  on 
your  head." 

There  was  nothing  very  terrible  in  the  secrets.  The 
worst  secret  perhaps  was  the  diminution  in  aspect,  the  shrink- 
ing of  the  coronet  of  hair,  when  the  sustaining  frame  had 
been  removed. 

But  Yates,  the  old  spinster,  speaking  so  wisely  and  con- 
fidently, said,  "  Don't  tell  me,  ma'am.  If  he's  fond  of  you, 
a  little  thing  like  that  isn't  going  to  put  him  off.  .  .  . 
Besides,  you  must  fluff  it  out  big  —  like  I'm  doing;"  and 
Yates  worked  on  with  brush  and  comb.  "  Now  look  at 
yourself." 

And  Mrs.  Thompson  peered  at  her  reflection  in  the  glass. 
The  frame  lay  on  the  dressing-table.  Still  she  seemed  to 
have  a  fine  tawny  mane  of  her  own,  fluffed  wide  from  her 
brows,  and  falling  in  respectably  big  masses. 

"  Show  me,  Yates,  exactly  how  you  get  the  effect." 

And  under  the  watchful  tuition  of  Yates,  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son toiled  at  her  lesson. 

"Is  that  right?" 

"  Yes,  that's  pretty  near  as  well  as  I  can  work  it  out, 
myself.  .  .  .  Yes,  that'll  do  very  nice.  .  .  .  You 
know,  it'll  only  be  at  first  that  you  need  take  so  much 
trouble." 

119 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Yates,  I  shall  be  nervous  and  clumsy  —  I  shall  forget, 
and  make  a  mess  of  ft." 

"  Then  take  me  with  you,"  said  Yates  earnestly.  "  I 
can't  think  why  you  don't  take  me  along  with  you." 

"Oh,  I  couldn't,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson.  "I  couldn't 
have  anyone  with  me  —  least  of  all,  anyone  who'd  known 
me  before."  «* 


It  had  come  to  be  the  day  before  the  day  of  days,  and  St. 
Saviour's  Court  lay  wrapped  in  drab-hued  fog,  so  that  from 
the  windows  of  the  house  she  could  not  see  as  far  as  the 
churchyard  on  one  side  or  the  street  on  the  other;  and  all 
day  long,  behind  the  curtain  of  fog,  the  chilly  autumn  rain 
was  falling. 

Throughout  the  day  she  remained  indoors,  reviewing  and 
arranging  her  trousseau,  watching  Yates  pack  the  new 
trunks  and  bags,  and  learning  how  and  where  she  was  to 
find  things  when  she  and  some  strange  hotel  chambermaid 
hastily  did  the  unpacking.  Now,  late  at  night,  her  bed- 
room was  still  in  confusion  —  empty  cardboard  boxes  lit- 
tering the  floor,  dressing-gowns  trailing  across  the  backs  of 
chairs,  irrepressible  silk  skirts  bulging  from  beneath  trunk 
lids. 

At  last  Yates  finished  the  task,  prepared  her  mistress  for 
bed,  and  left  her. 

"  Good-night,  ma'am  —  and  mind  you  sleep  sound. 
Don't  get  thinking  about  to-morrow,  and  wearing  yourself 
out  instead  of  taking  your  rest." 

Unfortunately  Mrs.  Thompson  was  not  able  to  follow 
this  sensible  advice.  A  fire  burned  cheerfully  in  the  grate, 
the  room  was  warm  and  comfortable,  and  she  wandered 
about  aimlessly  and  musingly  —  picking  up  silver  brushes 
and  putting  them  down  again,  gently  pressing  the  trunk 

120 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

tops,  looking  at  the  new  initials  that  had  been  painted  on 
the  glazed  leather. 

Presently  she  was  stooping  over  one  of  the  smaller 
trunks,  smoothing  and  patting  the  folded  night-dress  that 
she  and  Yates  had  so  carefully  selected  at  the  famous  Lon- 
don shop.  Her  lips  parted  in  a  smile  as  she  looked  at  its 
infinitely  delicate  tucks  and  frills,  and  she  let  her  fingers 
play  with  the  lace  and  feel  the  extraordinary  lightness  and 
softness  of  its  texture. 

Then,  yielding  to  a  sudden  impulse,  she  pulled  out  the 
garment,  carried  it  to  the  bed,  and,  hastily  stripping,  tried 
it  on. 

To-night  Yates  had  done  no  fluffing-out  of  her  hair.  It 
was  tightly  screwed  against  her  head,  in  the  metal  curling- 
clips  that  were  to  give  it  a  pretty  wave  when  pulled  over  the 
frame  to-morrow;  but  it  had  a  bald  aspect  now,  with  its 
queer  little  rolled  excrescences  protruding  above  the  scalp, 
and  two  mean  pigtails  hanging  limply  behind  the  ears,  and 
hiding  their  ends  in  the  lace  of  the  night-dress  collar. 

The  electric  light  was  shining  full  into  the  cheval  glass 
as  she  came  and  stood  before  it,  with  the  smile  of  pleasure 
still  on  her  lips.  Then  she  saw  herself  in  the  glass,  and 
began  to  tremble. 

Through  the  diaphanous  veil  the  strong  light  seemed  to 
show  her  a  grotesque  and  lamentable  figure:  heavy  fullness 
instead  of  shapely  slenderness,  exaggerated  curves,  distorted 
outlines, —  the  pitiless  ravages  wrought  by  time. 

With  a  sob  of  terror,  she  ran  to  the  door,  and  again 
to  the  dressing-table,  switching  off  the  light,  desperately 
seeking  the  kindly  darkness.  Her  hands  were  shaking,  she 
felt  sick  and  faint,  while  she  tore  the  nightgown  from  her 
shoulders  and  kicked  it  from  her  on  the  floor.  Then  she 
covered  herself  with  a  woollen  dressing-gown  and  crept, 
sobbing,  into  bed. 

121 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

The  firelight  flickered  on  the  ceiling,  but  no  heat  was 
thrown  by  the  yellow  flames  or  the  red  coals;  a  deadly 
chill  seemed  to  have  issued  from  the  polished  surface  of  the 
big  glass,  striking  at  her  heart,  reaching  and  gripping  her 
bones.  She  lay  shivering  and  weeping. 

Outside  the  windows  the  cruel  autumn  rain  pattered  on 
the  stone  flags,  the  cruel  autumn  wind  sighed  and  moaned 
and  echoed  from  the  cold  brick  walls.  The  year  was  dying; 
the  fertile  joyous  months  were  dead;  soon  the  barren  hope- 
less winter  would  be  here.  And  she  felt  that  her  own  life 
was  dead;  warmth,  colour,  beauty,  had  gone  from  it;  only 
ugliness,  disfigurement,  decay,  were  left.  And  she  wept  for 
her  wasted  youth,  her  vanished  grace,  for  all  that  makes  the 
summer  in  a  woman's  life. 

But  next  day  she  woke  in  sunlight.  White  clouds 
raced  across  a  blue  sky;  the  air  was  warm  and  genial;  and, 
as  she  walked  up  St.  Saviour's  Court,  leaning  on  the  kind 
arm  of  Mr.  Prentice,  she  was  a  girl  again. 

There  were  many  people  in  the  church,  but  their  curious 
glances  did  not  trouble  her.  Sunbeams  streaming  through 
painted  glass  made  a  rainbow  radiance  on  the  chancel  steps; 
and  here  she  stood  by  her  lover's  side,  feeling  happy  and  at 
ease  in  the  radiant  heart  of  the  glorious  dream.  Sweet 
music,  sacred  words  —  and  then  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the 
pressure  of  his  fingers.  Nothing  could  touch  her  now  —  she 
was  safe  in  the  dream,  beyond  the  reach  of  ridicule,  high 
above  the  range  of  pity. 

Solemnization  or  sacrament  —  now  at  the  last  it  did  not. 
matter  which;  for  she  had  brought  to  the  rites  all  that 
priests  can  demand:  pure  and  unselfish  thoughts,  guileless 
faith,  and  innocent  hope. 

The  loud  swelling  pipes  of  the  organ  rolled  forth  their 
harmonious  thunders,  filling  the  air  with  waves,  making  the 

122 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

book  on  the  vestry  table  throb  beneath  her  hand.  She  was 
half  laughing,  half  crying,  and  a  shaft  of  sunlight  danced 
about  her  head. 

"  Happy  is  the  bride  that  the  sun  shines  on,"  said 
Mr.  Prentice,  very,  very  kindly.  "  God  bless  you,  my 
dear." 


Another  day's  sun  was  shining  on  the  bride.  This  was 
the  third  day  of  the  wonderful,  miraculously  blissful  honey- 
moon; and,  with  windows  wide  open  and  the  sweet  clean 
air  blowing  in  upon  them,  the  husband  and  wife  lingered 
over  their  breakfast  in  the  private  sitting-room  of  the  tre- 
mendous and  magnificent  Brighton  hotel. 

Presently  Mr.  Marsden  got  up,  stretched  himself;  and, 
going  to  one  of  the  windows,  looked  down  at  the  sparkling 
brightness  and  pleasant  gaiety  of  the  King's  Road. 

"  Now,  little  woman,  I'm  going  to  smoke  my  cigar  out- 
side. .  .  .  You  can  put  on  your  hat,  and  join  me  when- 
ever you  please." 

Mrs.  Marsden  followed  him  to  the  window,  sat  upon  the 
arm  of  a  large  velvet  chair,  and  leaned  her  face  against  his 
coat  sleeve. 

"  Take  care,"  he  said,  laughing,  "  or  you'll  find  yourself 
on  the  floor." 

The  chair  had  in  fact  shown  signs  of  overturning,  and 
Mrs.  Marsden  playfully  pretended  that  she  could  not  retain 
her  position,  and  allowed  herself  to  flop  down  upon  her 
knees. 

"  Isn't  this  my  right  place,  Dick  —  kneeling  on  the  ground 
at  your  feet?  " 

Then  with  a  gesture  that  would  have  been  infinitely 
graceful  in  quite  a  young  girl,  she  took  his  hand  and  held 
it  to  her  lips. 

9  123 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  You  foolish  Janey,  get  up,"  and  he  gave  her  cheek  a 
friendly  tap. 

"  My  own  boy,"  she  murmured,  "  why  shouldn't  I  kneel? 
You  have  opened  the  gates  of  heaven  for  me." 

After  he  had  left  the  room  she  stood  at  the  window,  and 
watched  until  he  reappealWd  on  the  broad  pavement  below. 

People  were  walking,  riding,  spinning  along  in  motor- 
cars; gulls  hovered  above  the  beach  on  lazy  wings;  pebbles, 
boat  gunwales,  lamp-posts,  every  smooth  hard  surface,  flashed 
in  the  sunlight;  the  gentle  breeze  smelt  deliciously  fresh  and 
clean ;  —  all  was  bright  and  gay  and  splendid,  because  so 
full  of  pulsing  life.  But  the  most  splendid  thing;  in  sight 
was  her  husband.  The  man  out  there  —  that  glorious  crea- 
ture, with  his  hat  cocked  and  his  stick  twirling  as  he  swag- 
gered across  the  broad  roadway  —  was  her  handsome,  splen- 
did husband. 

The  sun  shone  on  her  face,  and  the  love  shone  out  of  it 
to  meet  the  genial  vivifying  rays.  "  My  husband ;  "  and  she 
murmured  the  words  aloud.  "  My  own  darling  boy.  My 
strong,  kind,  noble  husband." 

It  was  a  real  marriage. 


XII 

THE  abnormally  bright  weather  continued  in  an  unbroken 
spell,  and  it  seemed  to  her  a  part  of  the  miracle  that 
had  been  granted  to  her  prayers  —  as  if  nature  had  sud- 
denly abrogated  all  laws,  and  when  giving  her  back  love 
and  youth,  had  given  warmth  and  sunshine  to  the  whole 
world. 

One  afternoon,  as  they  were  sauntering  home  to  the  hotel, 
he  asked  her  if  there  was  not  some  special  name  for  this 
snatch  of  unseasonable  autumn  brightness. 

"  It's  more  than  we  had  a  right  to  expect,  Janey,  so 
late  in  the  year.  Here  we  are  in  the  first  week  of  No- 
vember, and  I'll  swear  to-day  has  been  as  warm  as  May  or 
June." 

"Yes,  hasn't  it?" 

"  But  what  do  they  call  it  when  the  weather  plays  tricks 
at  this  time  of  year  ?  You  know  —  not  the  Hunter's  moon, 
but  some  name  like  that." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  what  you  mean  —  St.  Martin's  sum- 
mer." 

"  That's  right  —  learned  old  girl !  St.  Martin's  Sum- 
mer." 

Then  they  turned  to  the  shop  windows,  and  considered 
the  window-dressing  art  as  displayed  by  these  Brighton 
tradesmen.  All  through  their  honeymoon  the  King's  Road 
shops  provided  a  source  of  unfailing  entertainment. 

"  I  don't  see  that  they  know  much,"  he  said  patronisingly. 
"  I  think  I  could  open  their  eyes.  You  wait,  old  girl,  till  we 
get  back  to  Mallingbridge,  and  I'll  astonish  you.  I'm  bub- 

125 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

bling  over  with  ideas.  .  .  .  Halloa!  That's  rather 
tasty." 

They  were  looking  into  a  jeweller's  window,  and  his  eye 
had  been  caught  by  a  cigarette  case. 

"Now  I  wonder,  Janey,  what  they'd  have  the  cheek  to 
ask  for  that." 

"  Let  us  go  in  and  enquire." 

"  Oh,  no.  It's  not  worth  while.  Why,  the  gold  alone, 
without  the  gems,  would  cost  fifteen  quid;  and  if  the  stones 
are  as  good  as  they  look,  I  daresay  this  chap  would  expect  a 
hundred  guineas  for  it." 

"  Well,  we  might  enquire." 

"  No,  I  mustn't  think  about  it.  Come  on,  old  girl,  or 
my  mouth  will  begin  to  water  for  it ;  "  and,  laughing,  he 
linked  his  arm  in  hers,  and  led  her  away  from  this  too  tempt- 
ing shop.  "  Let  'em  keep  it  till  they  can  catch  a  million- 
aire." 

They  ordered  tea  in  the  great  noisy  hall  of  the  hotel, 
which  he  preferred  to  the  quiet  grandeur  of  the  private  sit- 
ting-room; and  she,  pretending  that  she  wished  to  go 
upstairs,  hurried  past  the  lift  door,  dodged  round  by  a 
crowd  of  new  arrivals,  ran  down  the  steps,  and  left  the  build- 
ing. 

She  was  hot  and  red  and  breathless  when,  after  twenty 
minutes,  she  came  bustling  into  the  hall  again.  The  tea- 
tray  stood  waiting  for  them ;  but  he  had  moved  away  to  an- 
other table,  and  was  drinking  a  whisky  and  soda  with  some 
hotel  acquaintances.  These  were  a  loud  vulgar  man  and 
two  over-dressed,  giggling,  free-and-easy  daughters.  Mars- 
den  for  a  little  time  did  not  see  his  wife:  he  was  laughing: 
and  talking  vivaciously;  and  the  young  women  contorted 
themselves  in  shrill  merriment,  ogled  and  leered,  and  made 
chaffing,  unbecomingly  familiar  interjections. 

"That  fellow,"  said  Marsden  presently,  when  he  had 

126 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

returned  to  his  wife's  table,  "  is  in  a  very  big  way  of  busi- 
ness— -and  he  might  be  useful  to  us  some  day  or  other. 
That's  why  I  do  the  civil  to  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden. 

"  But  where  the  dickens  did  you  slip  away  to?  Your  tea 
must  be  cold.  Shall  I  order  a  fresh  pot?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  this  is  quite  right,  thank  you." 

She  drank  a  little  of  her  tepid  tea;  and  then,  fumblingly, 
with  fingers  that  were  slightly  trembling,  she  brought  the 
little  parcel  out  of  her  pocket  and  put  it  in  his  hand. 

"  What  on  earth  is  this?  " 

"  Can't  you  guess?" 

"  No  —  I  can't  imagine  —  unless  " —  He  was  slowly  un- 
folding the  layers  of  tissue  paper ;  and  until  the  precious  metal 
discovered  itself,  he  did  not  raise  his  eyes.  "  Oh,  I  say! 
Janey!  But  you  shouldn't  have  done  it  —  you  really 
shouldn't.  It's  too  bad  —  altogether  too  bad  of  you." 

"Dick!" 

"  Come  upstairs  and  let  me  kiss  you  —  or  I  shall  have  to 
kiss  you  here,  with  everybody  looking  at  us." 

Then  Mrs.  Marsden  was  well  content  with  her  little  act 
of  extravagance. 

The  culmination  of  the  glorious  weather  came  on  Sun- 
day. In  the  morning,  when  she  emerged  from  the  dim 
church  where  she  had  been  pouring  out  her  fervent  grati- 
tude for  so  much  happiness,  the  glare  of  the  sea-front  almost 
blinded  her.  All  the  wide  lawns  by  the  sea  were  densely 
thronged  with  people,  and  amongst  the  moving  crowd  she 
searched  in  vain  for  her  husband.  He  had  said  he  wouL 
meet  her  for  this  church  parade. 

But  at  the  hotel  there  was  a  note  to  explain  his  absence. 
"  My  friends,"  she  read,  "  insist  on  carrying  me  off  for  a 
long  run  in  their  car.  Shall  try  to  be  back  for  dinner.  Bur 
don't  wait." 

127 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

While  she  was  kneeling  in  the  church,  thanking  God  for 
having  given  him  to  her,  he  was  rolling  fast  away  —  with 
that  loud  man  and  the  two  shrill  young  women. 


It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  —  the  close  of  the  brilliant 
sun-lit  day,  and  the  Hove  lawns  were  still  crowded.  The 
sky  preserved  its  clear  blue,  unspoilt  by  the  faint  white 
stains  of  cloud ;  the  sea  sparkled ;  and  the  shadows  thrown  by 
the  green  chairs  and  the  iron  railings  crept  imperceptibly 
across  the  grass.  Behind  the  railings  the  long  fagades  of 
the  white  houses  stretched  westward  like  a  perspective-draw- 
ing ;  and  down  the  broad  road  a  motor  fizzed  past  every  mo- 
ment, changed  to  a  black  speck,  and  vanished.  The  gaiety 
and  life  of  the  hours  was  lasting  bravely.  Coloured  flags 
floated  above  the  pier ;  and  from  the  monstrous  protuberance 
at  its  far  end,  the  glass  and  iron  castle  of  the  tourist  mob, 
light  flashed  as  though  striking  mirrors ;  a  band  was  playing 
at  a  distance;  and  the  Worthing  steamboat,  as  it  hurriedly 
approached,  made  a  rhythmic  beating  on  the  water. 

Mrs.  Marsden,  in  possession  of  a  penny  chair,  sat  alone, 
and  watched  the  crowd  that  had  been  walking  all  day  long. 
She  felt  absolutely  lost  in  the  crowd;  and  it  seemed  to  her, 
coming  from  her  quiet  country  town,  that  the  world  could 
not  contain  so  many  people. 

She  watched  them  with  tired  eyes.  All  sorts:  fine  ladies 
and  gentlemen ;  visitors  and  residents  —  down  the  scale  to 
mere  shopgirls  and  housemaids ;  pale  men  who  toiled  indoors, 
bronzed  men  who  lived  in  the  open  air;  Jews  and  Jewesses; 
smiling  matrons,  sour-visaged  spinsters;  girls  with  powdered 
faces  and  immense  hats  —  whom  she  classed  as  actresses,  and 
judged  to  be  no  better  than  they  ought  to  be, —  lounging 
and  simpering  beside  sawny  cavaliers. 

728 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

She  watched  the  various  couples  —  boys  and  girls,  men 
and  women,  young  and  old;  and  she  saw  that  every  couple 
was  of  corresponding,  suitable  age:  tottering  old  men  and 
white-haired  wrinkled  dames  —  thinking  of  their  golden 
weddings;  fat  paunchy  men  in  the  prime  cj  life  with  gor- 
geous mature  consorts;  lithe  and  athletic  men  with  long- 
legged,  striding,  game-playing  mates;  and  so  on,  like  with 
like,  or  each  the  normal  complement  of  the  other. 

It  happened  that,  while  she  watched  with  a  growing  in- 
tentness,  there  passed  no  Mays  and  Decembers.  An  old 
man  and  his  daughter  —  or  just  possibly  his  wife!  But  no 
young  man  with  a  middle-aged  woman.  Not  even  a  son 
escorting  his  mother.  Age  has  no  claLn  on  youth. 

Then  she  saw  the  roaming  solitary  men  who  were  seeking 
love  or  adventure;  saw  how  they  stared  at  the  girls, — 
stopped  and  turned, —  with  their  eyes  wistfully  followed  the 
graceful  gracious  forms. 

And  no  man  in  all  the  vast  crowd  looked  at  her.  Not 
even  the  purple-cheeked  veterans.  None  gave  her  the  alder- 
manic  approving  glance  that  might  seem  to  say,  "  There's 
a  well-preserved  woman  —  not  yet  quite  devoid  of  charm." 
Not  even  a  glance  of  curiosity.  It  was  as  if  for  a  penny  the 
chair  had  rendered  her  invisible. 

A  cold  air  came  off  the  sea,  and  she  shivered.  Looking 
round,  she  saw  that  the  sun  had  just  dipped  behind  the  long 
white  cornice  of  the  stately  houses.  The  wide  lawn  was  in 
shadow. 

She  felt  cold,  and  shivered  several  times  as  she  walked 
home  to  the  noisy  hotel. 


XIII 

THEY  had  been  married  nearly  three  months,  and  each 
month  seemed  longer  to  her  than  any  year  of  her  previous 
existence. 

Many  changes  were  visible  at  the  shop.  Indeed,  from 
the  back  wall  of  the  carters'  yard  to  the  sign-board  over  the 
front  doors,  nothing  was  quite  as  it  used  to  be.  The  big 
white  board,  which  told  the  world  that  the  business  "  Es- 
tablished 1813  "  now  belonged  to  Thompson  &  Marsden, 
was  a  makeshift  affair;  but  the  new  partner  had  ordered  a 
gigantic  and  artistic  fascia,  and  this,  he  said,  would  be  a 
real  ornament  to  High  Street. 

He  promised  soon  to  inaugurate  new  departments,  to  in- 
troduce improvements  in  the  old  ones,  to  revolutionize  old- 
fashioned  time-wasting  methods  of  book-keeping  and  all 
other  office  work;  but  so  far  he  had  only  achieved  some- 
thing very  like  chaos. 

"Don't  fuss,"  he  used  to  say.  "I'll  soon  get  to  work; 
but  I  can't  attend  to  it  for  the  moment." 

Thus  the  little  realm  behind  the  glass  had  been  turned  up- 
side down  and  not  yet  replaced  upon  its  feet  again.  The 
rooms  were  blocked  with  the  opened  and  unopened  packing- 
cases  that  contained  the  materials  for  Mr.  Marsden's  clever 
arrangement  —  innumerable  desks  and  cabinets,  immense  in- 
dex cupboards,  racks  and  sideless  stands,  by  the  use  of  which 
weapons  such  antiquated  devices  as  letter-presses,  copying- 
machines,  and  pigeon-holes  would  be  abolished.  Every 
shred  of  paper  would  be  filed  flat;  thousands  of  letters 
would  lie  in  the  space  hitherto  occupied  by  half  a  dozen; 

130 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

each  correspondent  would  be  allotted  a  file  to  himself,  letter 
and  answer  together;  and  this  novel  system  would  deprive 
clerks  of  the  power  of  making  mistakes ;  order  would  reign ; 
confusion  would  be  impossible.  But  at  present,  with  the 
two  systems  inextricably  mixed,  the  new  system  half  started 
and  the  old  system  half  discarded,  confusion  was  not  only 
possible  but  unavoidable. 

"  Let  them  rub  along  as  they  can  pro  tern.  I'll  straighten 
it  out  for  them  directly  I  settle  down  to  it." 

Just  now  he  could  throw  himself  into  the  business  only 
by  fits  and  starts,  but  he  assured  everybody  that  it  should 
soon  secure  his  undivided  care. 

"  I'll  wake  'em  up ;  "  and  he  tapped  his  forehead  and 
laughed.  "  There's  a  reservoir  of  enterprise  here  —  the  ideas 
simply  bubbling  over."  Then  he  would  bring  out  his  jew- 
elled cigarette-case,  light  a  cigarette,  and  swagger  off  to  keep 
some  pleasant  appointment. 

He  was  candidly  enjoying  the  softer  side  of  his  new  posi- 
tion, and  postponing  its  arduous  duties.  He  both  looked 
and  felt  very  jolly.  Except  when  anyone  accidentally  made 
him  angry,  he  was  always  ready  to  laugh  and  joke. 

He  had  a  small  run-about  car,  and  was  rapidly  learning 
to  drive  it  while  a  much  bigger  car  was  being  built  for  him. 
He  was  renewing  old  acquaintances  and  picking  up  fresh 
friends.  He  showed  a  fine  catholic  taste  for  amusement, 
and  handsomely  supported  the  theatre,  the  music-hall,  the 
race-course.  In  the  good  company  with  which  he  was  now 
able  to  surround  himself  he  dashed  to  and  fro  all  over  Eng- 
land, to  see  the  winter  sport  between  the  flags.  He  dressed 
grandly,  drank  bravely,  spent  freely  —  in  a  word,  he  was 
hastily  completing  his  education  as  a  gentleman. 

"  Must  have  my  fling,  old  girl  " —  He  was  nearly  always 
jolly  about  it  to  his  wife.  "  But  don't  you  fear  that  I'm 
turning  into  an  idler.  Not  much.  This  is  my  holiday. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

And  no  one  can  say  I  haven't  earned  a  holiday.  Ever  since 
I  was  fourteen  I've  been  putting  my  back  into  it  like  a  good 
W" 

He  was  especially  genial  when  luck  had  been  kind  to 
him  and  he  had  won  a  few  bets.  Returning  after  a  couple 
of  fortunate  days  at  Manchester  or  Wolverhampton,  he 
jingled  the  sovereigns  in  his  pockets  and  chattered  glee- 
fully. 

"  Rare  fun  up  there  —  and  little  Dick  came  out  on  top. 
Cheer  up,  Jane.  Give  a  chap  a  welcome.  This  doesn't 
cost  one  half  what  you  might  guess.  .  .  .  Besides,  any- 
how, I've  got  to  do  it  —  for  a  bit  —  not  forever.  .  .  . 
I'm  young  —  don't  forget  that.  Only  one  life  to  live  —  in 
this  vale  of  tears." 

He  pleaded  his  youth,  as  if  it  must  always  prove  a  suffi- 
cient excuse  for  anything;  but  she  never  invited  either  ex- 
cuses or  apologies. 

"  Well,  old  girl,  I'm  leaving  you  to  your  own  resources 
again  —  but,  you  understand,  don't  you  ?  Boys  will  be 
boys ;  "  and  he  laughed.  "  This  isn't  naughtiness  —  only 
what  is  called  the  levity  of  youth.  Ta-ta  —  take  care  of 
yourself." 

He  liked  to  avail  himself  of  a  spare  day  between  two  race- 
meetings,  and  run  up  to  London,  make  a  swift  tour  of  the 
wholesale  houses,  and  do  a  little  of  that  easiest  and  proudest 
sort  of  business  which  is  known  as  "  buying  for  a  sound 
firm."  His  vanity  was  flattered  by  the  outward  show  of 
respect  with  which  these  big  London  people  received  him. 
Managers  fawned  upon  him;  even  principals  begged  him  to 
join  them  at  their  luncheon  table;  and  he  described  to  his 
wife  something  of  his  satisfaction  when  he  found  himself 
seated  with  the  bosses,  at  places  that  he  used  to  enter  a  few 
years  ago  as  a  poor  little  devil  trotting  about  the  city  to 
match  a  ribbon  or  a  tape  string. 

132 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

He  came  home  one  night,  when  the  rain  was  beating  on 
the  window-panes  and  sending  a  river  down  St.  Saviour's 
Court  to  swell  the  sea  of  mud  in  High  Street,  and  told  her 
he  had  heard  big  news  while  lunching  with  his  silk  mer- 
chants. 

She  was  waiting  for  him  by  the  dining-room  fire,  and 
when  he  first  came  in  he  displayed  anger  because  the  cabman 
had  wanted  more  than  his  fare. 

"  But  he  didn't  get  it.  I  took  his  number  —  and  threat- 
ened to  report  him.  .  .  .  It's  infernally  inconvenient 
not  being  able  to  drive  up  to  your  own  door  —  it's  like  living 
in  a  back  alley." 

Then,  with  an  air  of  rather  surly  importance,  he  told  her 
his  news  about  Bence. 

"  They're  afraid  of  him.  They  gave  me  the  straight  tip 
that  he's  shaky.  Mark  my  words,  that  bubble  is  going  to 
be  burst." 

"  But  people  have  said  so  for  so  long."  And  she  ex- 
plained that  the  story  of  Bence's  approaching  destruction 
was  really  a  very  old  one.  "  Year  after  year  Mr.  Prentice 
used  to  tell  me  the  same  thing  —  that  Bence's  were  finan- 
cially rotten,  and  couldn't  last." 

"  Prentice  is  an  old  ass,  and  you're  quite  right  not  to  be- 
lieve all  he  tells  you.  Between  you  and  me  and  the  post,  I 
reckon  that  Mr.  P.  wants  a  precious  sharp  eye  kept  on  him 
—  I  don't  trust  him  an  inch  farther  than  I  can  see  him. 
.  .  .  But  what  was  I  saying?  Oh,  yes,  Bence's.  Well, 
it  is  not  what  Prentice  says  now  —  it's  what  I  say." 

Then  he  asked  if  there  was  anything  in  the  house  to  eat. 
Yes,  the  dinner  that  had  been  ready  for  him  three  hours  ago 
was  still  being  kept  hot  for  him. 

"  I  don't  want  any  dinner.  I  dined  in  London.  .  .  . 
But  I  think  I  could  do  with  a  snack  of  supper." 

He  went  over  to  the  sideboard,  unlocked  a  lower  division 
133 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

of  it  with  his  private  key,  and  drew  forth  a  half-bottle  of 
champagne. 

"  If  you'll  help  me,  I'll  make  it  a  whole  bottle." 

"  No,  thank  you." 

Before  re-locking  the  cupboard,  he  peered  into  it  suspi- 
ciously. 

"  I  don't  think  my  wine  is  any  too  safe  in  this  cellaret. 
How  do  I  know  how  many  keys  there  aren't  knocking  about 
the  house?  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  thought  I  counted  three 
more  bottles  than  what's  left." 

Then  he  rang  the  bell,  and  at  the  same  time  called  loudly 
for  the  parlourmaid. 

"Mary!  Mary!  Why  the  devil  doesn't  she  come  in. 
and  ask  if  anything's  wanted  ?  "  He  left  the  room,  grum- 
bling and  fuming. 

Mrs.  Marsden  heard  his  voice  outside,  and  the  voice  of 
Yates  timidly  apologising. 

Mary  the  parlourmaid  had  a  very  bad  cold,  and  Yates  had 
ventured  to  allow  her  to  go  to  bed. 

"Thank  you  for  nothing.  .  .  .  Where's  the  cook? 
Cook  —  wake  up,  please;"  and  he  went  into  the  kitchen. 

The  servants  feared  him.  They  stammered  and  became 
stupid  when  he  spoke  to  them  crossly,  but  never  failed  to 
smile  sycophantically  when  he  expressed  pleasure. 

All  that  he  required  on  this  occasion  from  Cook  was 
plenty  of  hot  toast  and  cayenne  pepper.  But  he  sent  Yates 
to  buy  some  smoked  salmon  or  herring  at  the  restaurant  in 
High  Street. 

"  And  sharp's  the  word.  .  .  .  What  are  you  waiting 
for?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  going,  sir  —  but  I  shall  get  wet  to 
the  skin." 

"  Take  my  umbreller,"  said  the  cook. 

134 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Yates  went  down  the  steep  stairs,  and  the  master  looked  in 
at  the  dining-room  door. 

"  That  woman  is  like  some  old  cat  —  afraid  of  a  drop  of 
rain  on  her  mangy  old  fur." 

Then  Mrs.  Marsden  heard  his  footsteps  overhead  in  the 
dressing-room.  When  he  reappeared  he  had  taken  off  his 
tie  and  collar,  and  was  wearing  a  crimson  velvet  smoking 
jacket. 

The  toast  sandwiches  were  promptly  placed  before  him, 
and  he  sat  eating  and  drinking, —  not  really  hungry,  but 
avidly  gulping  the  wine;  and  rapidly  becoming  jolly  again. 

"  What  was  I  talking  about?  " 

"  Bence's." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  tell  you,  he  has  just  about  got  to  the  end 
of  his  tether.  All  the  best  people  funk  having  him  on  their 
books.  ...  I  give  him  two  years  from  to-day." 

"  I  wonder." 

"  Mind  you,  he  has  fairly  smacked  us  in  the  eye  with  his 
furniture." 

And  it  was  unfortunately  but  too  true  that  there  had  of 
late  been  an  ugly  drop  in  the  sales  of  Thompson's  solid,  well- 
made  chairs  and  tables. 

"  But,"  continued  Marsden,  "  we  aren't  going  to  take  it 
lying  down  any  longer.  He  has  got  a  man  to  reckon  with 
henceforth.  He'll  learn  what  tit-for-tat  means.  .  .  . 
It  was  too  late  to  attempt  anything  last  Christmas.  But  let 
him  wait  till  next  December.  Then  it  shall  be,  A  very 
happy  Christmas  to  you,  Mr.  Bence." 

"  What  do  you  propose  for  Christmas  ?  " 

"  You  wait,  too." 

"  Yes,  but,  Dick,  you  won't  begin  launching  out  without 
consulting  me  —  allowing  some  weight  to  my  opinion?" 

"  No,  of  course  I  shan't.  We're  partners,  aren't  we?  I 

135 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

know  what  a  partnership  is.  But  you  won't  need  persuad- 
ing. You'll  jump  at  my  ideas  when  you  hear  them." 

"Why  not  let  me  hear  them  now?  I  could  be  thinking 
over  them  —  I  like  to  brood  upon  plans." 

"  Well,  something  is  going  to  happen  in  our  basement 
next  Christmas,  which  will  be  tidings  of  peace  and  great 
joy  to  everybody  but  Bence;  "  and  he  laughed  with  riotous 
amusement.  "  Get  me  my  pipe,  old  woman.  I  can't  go 
into  business  matters  now.  You  wait,  and  trust  your  Dicky- 
bird." 

She  brought  him  his  pipe  and  tobacco;  and  he  explained 
to  her  that  he  fancied  a  pipe  because  he  had  been  smoking 
cigars  ever  since  the  morning,  and  the  tip  of  his  tongue  felt 
sore. 

He  puffed  at  the  pipe  in  silence,  and  luxuriously  stretched 
his  slippered  feet  towards  the  warmth  of  the  fire. 

"  You  best  go  to  by-by,  Jane.  I'm  too  tired  to  talk.  I've 
had  a  heavy  day  —  one  way  and  another;  and  a- longish 
journey  before  me  to-morrow.  .  .  .  Good-night.  Tell 
'em  I  must  be  called  at  eight-thirty  sharp." 

This  was  a  typical  evening.  There  were  many  evenings 
like  it. 

Frequently  two  or  three  days  passed  without  her  once  en- 
tering the  shop.  Sometimes  she  could  not  brace  herself  suf- 
ficiently to  go  down  and  face  the  staff.  They  all  saw  her 
subjection  to  her  husband;  and  although  they  endeavoured 
not  to  betray  their  thoughts,  it  was  obvious  that  to  almost 
all  of  them  she  appeared  as  the  once  absolute  princess 
who  had,  in  abdicating,  sunk  to  a  state  of  ignominious 
dependence.  She  walked  among  them  with  downcast 
eyes;  for  too  often  she  had  surprised  their  glances  of 
pity. 

But  she  saw  that  in  the  street  also  —  pity  or  contempt. 
One  or  other  each  citizen's  face  seemed  to  show  her  plainly. 

136 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

She  knew  exactly  what  shop  and  town  said  and  thought  of 
her  new  partner. 

At  dusk  on  these  winter  afternoons,  when  she  had  not 
lately  used  the  door  of  communication,  Miss  Woolfrey  or 
Mr.  Mears  would  come  through  it  and  inform  her  of  the 
day's  affairs.  Miss  Woolfrey 's  reports  consisted  merely  of 
vapid  and  irresponsible  gossip,  but  Mrs.  Marsden  seemed 
to  have  discovered  fresh  merits  in  this  sandy,  freckled,  com- 
monplace chatter-box  —  perhaps  for  no  other  reason  than 
because  she  belonged  so  entirely  to  the  old  regime  and  was 
intellectually  incapable  of  absorbing  unfamiliar  ideas.  But 
it  was  Mears  who  supplied  any  real  instruction,  and  it  was 
with  him  that  Mrs.  Marsden  talked  seriously. 

One  afternoon  when  he  was  about  to  leave  her,  she  de- 
tained him. 

"  Mr.  Mears  —  I've  something  to  ask  you." 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

She  had  laid  her  hand  upon  his  great  fore-arm;  she  was 
gazing  at  him  very  earnestly;  but  she  hesitated,  with  lips 
trembling  nervously,  and  seemed  for  a  few  moments  unable 
to  say  any  more. 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

Then  she  spoke  quickly  and  eagerly. 

"  Stick  to  me,  Mr.  Mears.  Whatever  happens,  don't 
give  me  up.  I  should  be  truly  lost  without  you.  Even  if 
it's  difficult,  stick  to  me." 

"  As  long  as  he  lets  me,"  said  Mears  huskily. 

"  He's  going  to  talk  to  you.  Humour  him.  He  has 
a  great  respect  for  you,  really." 

"  He  hasn't  shown  it  so  far." 

"  Make  allowances.  It's  his  way.  He  has  such  notions 
about  the  new  style  —  which  we  —  which  you  and  I  mayn't 
always  approve.  But  he  knows  your  value.  He  has  said 
so  again  and  again." 

137 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

It  was  not  long  after  this  secret  appeal  —  one  morning 
that  Marsden  spent  in  M  all  in  gb  ridge  —  when  the  shop  heard 
"  the  Guv'nor  begin  on  Mr.  M." 

"  Look  here,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Marsden  loudly,  "  it's 
about  time  that  we  took  each  other's  measure.  Is  it  you  or 
I  who  is  to  be  cock  of  the  walk?  Just  step  in  here,  please." 

This  was  said  outside  the  counting-house.  The  proprietor 
and  the  manager  at  once  disappeared;  and  the  news  flew 
far  and  wide,  downstairs  and  upstairs.  "  He  has  got  old 
Mears  behind  the  glass.  .  .  .  He  is  giving  old  Mears 
a  dressing-down."  All  had  known  that  the  thing  was  in- 
fallibly coming;  the  encounter  between  the  greater  and  the 
lesser  force  had  been  unaccountably  delayed;  every  man  and 
woman  in  the  building  now  trembled  for  the  result. 

"  You  want  to  put  your  authority  up  against  mine.  That 
won't  do.  One  boss  is  enough  in  a  larger  establishment 
than  this." 

But  behind  the  glass  old  Mears  was  very  firm.  He  made 
himself  as  big  as  possible,  standing  at  his  full  height,  seeming 
to  imitate  Marsden's  trick  of  squaring  the  shoulders  and 
throwing  back  the  head. 

"I  am  the  boss.     And  what  I  say  goes." 

"And  your  partner,  sir?  Mrs.  Thompson,  I  should  say 
Mrs.  Marsden  —  are  we  to  disregard  her?  " 

"  No.  But  I  speak  for  self  and  partner.  Please  make 
a  note  of  that." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

"  Then  that's  all  right.  It  was  a  case  of  '  Twiggez- 
vous?  '  But  I  think  you  twig  now  that  I  don't  stand  non- 
sense —  or  go  on  paying  salaries  in  exchange  for  bounce  and 
impudence." 

"  May  I  ask  if  you  think  I  am  not  earning  my  salary, 
sir?" 

"  I  haven't  said  you  aren't." 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Or  do  you  think,  sir,  if  you  hunted  the  country,  you'd 
find  a  man  who'd  give  the  same  service  for  the  same 
money  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  you  want  to  blow  your  trumpet  — " 

"  No,  sir,  I  want  to  find  my  bearings  —  to  learn  where  I 
am  —  if  I  can.  It  isn't  boasting,  it's  only  business.  I've 
a  value  here,  or  I  haven't.  I've  been  under  the  impression 
I  was  valuable.  You  know  that,  don't  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  no  quarrel  with  you  —  if  you'll  go  on  serving 
me  faithfully." 

"  I'll  serve  the  firm  faithfully,  sir  —  with  the  uttermost 
best  that's  in  me." 

"All  right  then." 

"  Because  that's  my  way,  sir  —  the  old-fashioned  style  I 
took  up  as  a  boy  —  and  couldn't  change  now,  sir,  if  I  wanted 
to." 

When  Mears  came  from  behind  the  glass  his  face  was 
flushed;  he  breathed  stertorously ;  and  he  held  his  hands  be- 
neath the  wide  skirts  of  his  frock  coat  to  conceal  the  fact 
that  they  were  shaking.  But  he  kept  the  coat-tails  swishing 
bravely,  and  he  marched  up  and  down  between  two  counters 
with  so  grand  a  tramp  that  no  one  dared  look  at  him  closely. 

Then,  after  a  few  minutes,  Marsden  came  swaggering, 
with  his  hat  cocked  and  a  lighted  cigar  in  his  mouth.  Be- 
fore going  out  into  the  street,  he  ostentatiously  paused ;  and 
spoke  to  Mr.  Mears  amicably,  even  jovially. 

And  the  shop  comprehended  that  the  battle  was  over,  and 
that  there  was  to  be  a  truce  between  the  two  men. 

On  some  days  when  Mrs.  Marsden  would  probably  have 
come  down  from  the  house  into  the  counting-house  she  was 
prevented  from  doing  so  by  a  grievous  headache. 

These  headaches  attacked  her  suddenly  and  with  appall- 
ing force.  At  first  the  pain  was  like  toothache ;  then  it  was 
like  earache,  and  then  the  whole  head  seemed  to  be  rent  as 
10  139 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

if  struck  with  an  axe  —  and  afterwards  for  several  hours 
there  was  a  dull  numbing  discomfort,  with  occasional  neu- 
ralgic twinges  and  throbbings. 

Resting  in  her  bedroom  after  such  an  attack,  she  was 
surprised  by  receiving  a  visit  from  Enid.  She  was  lying  on 
a  sofa  that  Yates  had  pushed  before  the  fire,  and  at  the 
sound  of  voices  outside  the  door  she  started  up  and  hastily 
scrambled  to  her  feet. 

"  Mother  dear,  may  I  come  in?     I'm  so  sorry  you're  ill." 

Since  their  parting  last  autumn  they  had  not  set  eyes  on 
each  other,  and  for  a  little  while  they  talked  almost  as 
strangers. 

"Yates,  bring  up  the  tea." 

"  Oh,  but  isn't  it  too  early  for  tea?  " 

"  No.  Get  it  as  quickly  as  you  can,  Yates.  Mrs.  Kenion 
must  be  ready  for  tea  —  after  her  long  drive." 

"  I  came  by  train.  Thank  you  —  I  own  I  should  like  a 
cup,  if  it  isn't  really  troubling  you." 

"  Of  course  not.     .     .     .     Do  take  the  easy  chair." 

"  This  is  very  comfortable.  .  .  .  But  won't  you  lie 
down  again?  I  have  disturbed  you." 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I  think  it  will  do  me  good  to  sit  up. 
Won't  you  take  off  your  coat?  " 

Enid  let  the  fur  boa  fall  back  from  her  slender  neck,  and 
undid  two  buttons  of  her  long  grey  coat. 

"  Really,"  she  said,  with  a  little  laugh,  "  it's  so  cold  that 
I  haven't  properly  thawed  yet." 

She  was  charmingly  dressed,  and  she  looked  very  graceful 
and  well-bred  —  but  not  at  all  plump;  in  fact  rather  too 
thin.  While  they  drank  their  tea,  she  told  her  mother  of 
the  kindness  of  her  husband's  relatives  —  a  sister-in-law  was 
a  particular  favourite;  but  everybody  was  nice  and  kind; 
there  were  many  pleasant  neighbours,  and  all  had  called 
and  paid  friendly  attentions  to  the  young  couple. 

140 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden.  "  My 
only  fear  of  the  country  was  that  you  might  sometimes  feel 
yourself  too  much  isolated." 

"  Oh,  I'm  never  in  the  least  lonely.  There's  so  much  to 
do  —  and  even  if  there  weren't  people  coming  in  and  out 
perpetually,  the  house  would  take  up  all  my  time." 

"  Ah  yes.  ...  I  suppose  you  are  quite  settled  down 
by  now." 

"  No,  I  wish  we  were.  Things  are  still  rather  at  sixes 
and  sevens.  Otherwise  I  should  have  begged  you  to  come 
and  see  for  yourself.  We  are  both  so  anxious  to  get  you 
out  there." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  come,  my  dear.  But  I  myself 
have  been  rather  rushed  of  late." 

"  Of  course  you  have.  .  .  Er  —  Mr.  Marsden  is 
away,  Yates  told  me." 

"  Yes,  but  only  for  a  few  days.  I  get  him  back  to-mor- 
row night;"  and  Mrs.  Marsden  laughed  cheerfully.  "  Do 
you  know,  he  has  taken  a  leaf  out  of  Mr.  Kenion's  book. 
He  is  quite  mad  about  racing." 

"  Is  he  ?     How  amusing !  " 

"  These  violent  delights  have  violent  ends.  He  says  it  is 
only  a  passing  fancy;  and  I  suppose  he'll  be  taking  up  some- 
thing else  directly  —  golf  perhaps  —  and  going  mad  about 
that." 

"  No  doubt.  Men  all  seem  alike,  don't  they  ?  "  And 
Enid  smiled  and  nodded  her  head.  "  Though  I  must  say, 
Charles  is  very  true  to  his  hunting.  I  mean  to  wean  him 
from  steeple-chasing;  but  I  like  him  to  hunt.  It  keeps  him 
in  such  splendid  health." 

"  Yes,  dear.  It  must  be  tremendous  exercise.  Do  you 
ride  to  the  meets  with  him?  " 

"  No,  I  never  seem  to  have  time  —  and  for  the  moment, 
though  we've  six  horses  in  the  stable,  there's  not  one  that 

141 


,  MRS.  THOMPSON 

I  quite  see  myself  on."  And  Enid  laughed  again,  gaily. 
"  Good  enough  for  Charles,  you  know  —  but  he  can  ride 
anything.  He  wants  to  get  me  a  pony-cart,  and  I  shall  be 
safer  in  that." 

The  constraint  was  wearing  off.  While  they  talked,  each 
availed  herself  of  any  chance  of  investigating  the  other's 
face  —  a  shy  swift  glance,  instantaneously  deflected  to  the 
teacups  or  the  mantelpiece,  if  a  head  turned  to  meet  it.  At 
first  there  had  been  difficulty  in  speaking  of  the  husbands, 
but  now  it  was  quite  easy;  and  it  all  sounded  fairly  natural. 

"  Oh,  but  that  is  just  the  sort  of  thing  Charlie  says." 
The  daughter  helped  the  mother.  "  Men  always  think  they 
can  manage  things  better  than  we  can  —  and  they're  always 
troublesome  about  the  servants.  The  only  occasions  on 
which  Charles  makes  one  really  angry  are  when  he  upsets  the 
servants." 

And  Mrs.  Marsden  helped  Enid. 

"  You  must  employ  all  your  tact  —  men  are  so  easily  led, 
though  they  won't  be  driven." 

"  No,  they  must  be  led,"  said  Enid,  with  a  return  to  com- 
plete artificiality  of  manner.  "  How  true  that  is !  " 

But  there  was  a  very  subtle  alteration  in  Enid.  Beneath 
the  artificial  manner  gradually  there  became  perceptible 
something  altogether  new  and  strange.  This  was  another 
Enid  —  not  the  old  Enid.  She  had  evidently  caught  the 
peculiar  tone  of  bucolic  gentility  and  covert-side  fashion 
common  to  most  of  her  new  associates,  and  this  had  slightly 
altered  her;  but  deeper  than  the  surface  change  lay  the 
changes  slowly  manifesting  themselves  to  the  instinctive  pen- 
etration of  her  mother.  Enid  was  softer,  more  gentle,  a 
thousand  times  more  capable  of  sympathy. 

"  Dick,"  Mrs.  Marsden  was  saying,  "  is  fearfully  ambi- 
tious." 

"  That's  a  good  fault,  mother." 

142 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

'  He  even  talks  of  —  of  going  into  Parliament.'* 

"And  why  not?" 

"He  belongs  to  the  Conservative  Club  here  —  but  he 
wants,"  and  Mrs.  Marsden  showed  embarrassment, — "  he 
would  like  to  join  the  County  Club." 

"Oh!" 

"  Do  you  think  Mr.  Charles  —  or  his  family  —  would  be 
kind  enough  to  use  influence  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother  dear,  I'll  make  them  —  if  possible."  Enid 
had  leant  forward;  and  she  shyly  took  her  mother's  hand, 
and  gently  squeezed  it.  "  But  now  I  must  go.  I  do  hope 
I  haven't  increased  your  headache." 

"  No,  my  dear,  you  have  done  me  good." 

Enid  rose,  buttoned  her  coat,  and  began  to  pull  on  her 
grey  reindeer  gloves. 

"  Mother !  My  old  room  —  is  it  empty,  or  are  you  using 
it  for  anything?  " 

"  Oh,  Dick  uses  that,  dear." 

"  And  the  dressing-room  ?  " 

"  He  uses  that,  too." 

"  Would  you  mind  —  would  he  mind  if  I  went  in  and 
looked  round  ?  " 

"  No.     ...     Of  course  not." 

"  Only  for  a  peep.  Then  I'll  come  back  —  and  say 
good-bye." 

But  she  was  a  long  time  in  the  other  rooms;  and  when 
she  returned  Mrs.  Marsden  saw  and  affected  not  to  see  that 
she  had  been  crying. 

The  warmth  of  the  fire  after  the  cold  of  the  street,  or  the 
sight  of  her  old  home  after  a  few  months  in  her  new  one, 
had  properly  thawed  elegant,  long-nosed  Enid.  She  sank  on 
her  knees  by  the  sofa,  flung  her  arms  round  the  neck  of  her 
mother,  and  kissed  her  again  and  again;  and  Mrs.  Marsden 
felt  what  in  vain  she  had  waited  for  during  so  many  years 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

—  her  child's  heart  beating  with  expansive  sympathy  against 
her  breast. 

"  Mother,  how  good  you  were  —  oh,  how  good  you  were 
to  me !  "  And  she  clung  and  pressed  and  kissed  as  in  all  her 
life  she  had  never  done  till  now. 

"  Enid  —  my  darling." 

When  she  had  gone,  Mrs.  Marsden  lay  musing  by  the  fire. 
It  was  impossible  not  to  divine  the  very  simple  cause  of 
this  immense  alteration  in  Enid.  Already  poor  Enid  had 
learnt  her  lesson  —  she  knew  what  it  was  to  have  a  rotten 
bad  husband. 


XIV 

BUT  not  so  bad  as  her  own  husband.  No,  that  would  be 
an  impossibility. 

She  did  not  want  to  think  about  it;  but  just  now  her  con- 
trol over  her  thoughts  had  weakened,  while  the  thoughts 
themselves  were  growing  stronger.  She  was  subject  to  rapid 
ups  and  downs  of  health,  the  victim  of  an  astounding  crisis 
of  nerves,  so  that  one  hour  she  experienced  a  queer  longing 
for  muscular  fatigue,  and  the  next  hour  laughed  and  wept  in 
full  hysteria.  At  other  times  she  felt  so  weak  that  she  be- 
lieved she  might  sink  fainting  to  the  ground  if  she  attempted 
to  go  for  the  shortest  walk. 

Generally  on  days  when  Marsden  was  away  from  Mal- 
lingbridge  she  crept  to  bed  at  dusk.  Yates  used  to  aid 
her  as  of  old,  sit  by  the  bed-side  talking  to  her;  and  then 
leave  her  in  the  fire-glow,  to  watch  the  dancing  shadows  or 
listen  to  the  whispering  wind. 

She  did  not  wish  to  think;  but  in  spite  of  all  efforts  to 
forget  facts  and  to  hold  firmly  to  delusions,  her  old  power 
of  logical  thought  was  remorselessly  returning  to  her.  In  de- 
fiance of  her  enfeebled  will,  the  past  reconstituted  itself, 
events  grouped  themselves  in  sequence;  hitherto  undetected 
connections  linked  up,  and  made  the  solid  chain  that  dragged 
her  from  vague  surmise  to  definite  conclusions.  Then  with 
the  full  vigour  of  the  old  penetrative  faculties  she  thought 
of  her  mistake. 

He  did  not  care  for  her.  He  had  never  cared  for  her. 
It  was  all  acting.  All  that  she  relied  on  was  false;  all  that 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

had  been  real  was  the  steadfast  sordid  purpose  sustaining  him 
throughout  his  odious  dissimulation. 

His  marriage  was  a  brutal  male  prostitution,  in  which  he 
had  sold  his  favours  for  her  gold.  And  shame  overwhelmed 
her  as  she  thought  of  how  easily  she  had  been  trapped. 
While  he  was  coldly  calculating,  she  was  endowing  him  with 
every  attribute  of  warm-blooded  generosity;  when  her  fine 
protective  instincts  made  her  yearn  over  him,  longing  to  give 
him  happiness,  comfort,  security,  he  was  in  truth  playing 
with  her  as  a  cat  plays  with  a  wounded  mouse  —  no  hurry, 
no  excitement,  but  steel-bright  eyes  watching,  retracted  claws 
waiting.  And  she  remembered  his  studied  phrases  that  rang 
so  true  to  the  ear,  till  too  late  she  discovered  their  miserable 
falsity.  With  what  art  he  had  prepared  the  way  for  the 
final  disclosure  of  his  effrontery!  He  could  not  brook  the 
sense  of  dependence,  his  manly  spirit  would  not  allow  him 
to  pose  as  the  pensioner  of  a  rich  wife,  and  so  on  —  and  then, 
even  at  the  last,  how  he  waited  until  she  had  completely 
betrayed  her  secret,  and  he  could  be  certain  that  her  pride 
as  a  woman  would  infallibly  prevent  her  from  drawing 
back.  Not  till  then,  when  she  had  taken  the  world  into  her 
confidence,  when  escape  had  become  impossible,  did  he  drive 
his  bargain. 

While  the  honeymoon  was  not  yet  over  she  imagined  she 
could  understand  the  pain  that  lay  before  her.  But  in  these 
three  months  she  had  suffered  more  than  she  had  conceived 
to  be  endurable  by  any  living  creature.  If  pain  can  kill, 
she  should  be  dead. 

Her  punishment  had  been  like  the  fabled  torture  of  the 
Chinese  —  hundreds  of  small  lacerations,  a  thousand  slicing 
cuts  of  the  executioner's  sword,  and  the  kind  death-stroke 
craftily  withheld.  But  the  swordsman  of  the  East  does  not 
laugh  while  he  mutilates.  And  he  struck  at  her  with  a 
smiling  face. 

146 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

She  thought  of  how  in  every  hour  of  their  companionship 
he  had  wounded  her;  with  what  unutterable  baseness  he  had 
used  his  power  over  her  —  the  power  given  to  him  by  her 
love.  The  love  stripped  her  of  every  weapon  of  defence; 
she  was  tied,  naked,  with  not  a  guarding  rag  to  shelter  her 
against  the  blows  —  and  the  pitiless  blows  fell  upon  her 
from  her  gagged  mouth  to  her  pinioned  feet. 

Daily  he  attacked  her  pride,  her  self-respect,  her  bodily 
health  and  her  mental  equipoise ;  but  most  of  all  she  suffered 
in  her  love  —  that  terrible  flower  of  passion  that  refuses  to 
die.  Torn  up  by  its  bleeding  roots,  it  replants  itself  —  and 
will  thrive  on  the  barren  rock  as  well  as  in  life's  richest 
garden.  Robbed  of  light,  air,  sustenance,  it  will  cling  to 
the  dungeon  wall,  and  bud  and  burst  again  for  the  prisoner 
to  touch  its  blossoms  in  his  darkness.  Its  flame-petals  can 
be  seen  by  the  glazing  eyes  that  have  lost  sight  of  all  else, 
and  its  burning  poisonous  fruit  is  still  tasted  in  the  earth  of 
our  graves. 

She  thought  of  what  he  had  said  to  her  wrhen  they  first 
came  back  to  the  house  that  she  had  decorated  and  made 
luxurious  for  him.  A  laugh,  a  nudge  of  the  elbow  — "  This 
is  the  beginning  of  Chapter  Two,  Janey.  We  can't  be 
honeymooning  forever,  old  girl ;  "  and  then  some  more  un- 
forgettable words,  to  formulate  the  request  that  they  might 
occupy  different  rooms;  and  so,  in  the  home-coming  hour, 
he  had  struck  a  deadly  blow  at  her  pride  by  the  brutally 
direct  implication  that  what  she  most  desired  was  that  which 
every  woman  craves  for  least.  As  if  the  grosser  manifesta- 
tions could  satisfy,  when  all  the  spiritual  joys  are^denied! 

But  he  judged  her  nature  by  his  own.  He  was  common 
as  dirt.  He  was  savage  as  a  beast  of  the  forest,  a  creature 
of  fierce  strong  appetites  that  believes  the  appeasement  of 
any  physical  craving  —  to  drink  deeply,  to  eat  greedily,  to 
sleep  heavily  —  is  the  highest  pleasure  open  to  the  animal 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

kingdom;  and  that  man  the  king  is  no  higher  than  the  dog, 
his  servant. 

He  knew  only  worthless  women,  and  he  supposed  that  all 
women  were  alike.  Undoubtedly  he  remembered  the  in- 
numerable conquests  won  simply  by  his  handsome  face,  the 
ready  and  absolute  surrender  to  a  sensual  thraldom  that  had 
made  other  women  his  abject  slaves;  and  he  dared  to  think 
that  his  wife  was  as  impotent  as  they  to  resist  the  viler  im- 
pulses of  the  ungoverned  flesh. 

He  dared  to  think  it. —  But  was  he  wrong?  And  she 
recalled  the  episodic  renewal  of  their  embraces  during  these 
last  months.  Once  after  high  words;  once  after  he  had 
found  her  weeping;  once  for  no  reason  at  all  that  she  knew 
of  —  except  a  carelessly  systematic  desire  on  his  part  to  keep 
her  in  good  temper  —  or  perhaps  merely  because  he  had  the 
prostitute's  point  of  honour.  A  bargain  is  a  bargain.  He 
had  been  paid  his  price  without  haggling,  and  he  intended 
to  fulfil  the  conditions  of  the  contract  —  so  far  as  certain 
limits  fixed  by  himself. 

Horrible  scenes  to  look  back  at  —  when  the  cruelly  bright 
light  of  reason  flashes  upon  the  decorously  obscured  past 
and  shows  the  ignominious  secrets  of  a  life:  blind  instincts 
moving  us,  all  that  is  high  beaten  down  by  all  that  is  low, 
the  soul  held  in  fetters  by  the  flesh. 

Much  of  her  slow  agony  had  come  from  the  stinging  pricks 
of  jealousy.  He  wras  unfaithful  —  he  was  notoriously  un- 
faithful. Already,  after  three  months,  everyone  in  the  shop 
knew  that  he  frequently  broke  the  marriage  vow.  She 
would  have  known  it  anyhow  —  even  if  one  of  his  vulgar 
friends,  turning  to  a  more  vulgar  enemy,  had  not  troubled  to 
tell  her  in  an  ill-spelt  series  of  anonymous  letters.  She 
remembered  how  he  once  used  to  look  at  her,  and  she  saw 
how  in  her  presence  he  now  looked  at  other  women.  Each 
look  was  an  insult  to  her.  Each  word  was  an  outrage, 

148 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"There's  a  pert  little  minx;"  and  he  would  smile  as  he 
watched  some  passer-by.  "Young  hussy!  Dressed  up  to 
the  nines  —  wasn't  she  ?  "  And  he  swelled  out  his  chest,  and 
swaggered  more  arrogantly  by  the  side  of  his  wife,  uncon- 
scious of  the  swift  completeness  with  which  she  could  inter- 
pret the  thoughts  behind  his  bold  eyes  and  his  lazily  lasciv- 
ious smile. 

And  she  thought  of  how  he  harped  upon  the  over-tightened 
string  of  youth,  making  every  fibre  of  her  tired  brain  vibrate 
to  the  discord  of  the  jarring  note.  It  was  melody  to  him. 
Youth  was  his  own  paramount  merit,  and  he  praised  it  as 
the  only  merit  that  he  could  admit  of  in  others.  He  had 
forgotten  half  the  lies  of  his  courtship.  Age  was  con- 
temptible —  the  thing  one  should  hide,  or  excuse,  or  ransom. 
"Only  one  life!  Remember,  I'm  young — I  am  not  old.'* 
But  her  friends,  the  people  she  trusted,  were  shamefully  old, 
even  a  few  years  older  than  herself.  Old  Prentice,  Old 
Yates,  Old  Mears;  and  he  never  spoke  of  them  without  the 
scornful  epithet. 

But  the  jingling  coin  that  she  had  put  in  his  pockets  would 
procure  him  the  solace  to  be  derived  from  youthful  com- 
panions. With  the  money  she  had  paid  for  all  the  love  that 
he  could  give,  he  bought  from  loose  women  all  the  love  that 
he  cared  for.  Of  course  when  he  stayed  in  London  he  was 
carrying  on  his  promiscuous  amours.  .  .  .  Perhaps,  too, 
here  in  Mallingbridge. 

Yet  when  he  came  back  to  her,  she  had  failed  to  resist 
him.  She  knew  the  reflective  air  with  which  he  considered 
her  face  when  he  proposed  to  exercise  his  sway.  She 
trembled  when  he  lightly  slapped  her  on  the  shoulder,  or 
took  her  chin  in  his  hand,  and  spoke  with  caressing  tones. 
He  was  beginning  to  act  the  lover.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  wipe  out  the  past,  to  subjugate  her  afresh,  to  as- 
sure himself  that  his  poor  slave  was  not  slipping  away. 

149 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Janey  —  dear  old  Janey.  ...  I  leave  you  alone, 
don't  I  ?  "  And  with  an  arm  round  her  waist,  he  would 
pull  her  to  him,  and  hold  her  closer  and  closer.  "  Have  you 
missed  me?  Eh?  Have  you  missed  your  Dickybird?  " 

And  she  could  not  resist  him.  There  was  the  abomi- 
nable basis  of  the  tragedy  —  worse,  infinitely  worse  than  the 
imagined  horrors  that  had  troubled  her  before  the  marriage. 
Love  dies  so  slowly. 

But  the  night  spent  in  the  same  room  with  him  was  like 
a  fatal  abandonment  to  some  degrading  habit  —  as  if  in 
despair  she  had  taken  a  heavy  dose  of  laudanum, —  knowing 
that  the  drug  is  deadly,  yet  seeking  once  more  to  stupefy 
herself,  impelled  at  all  hazards  to  pass  again  through  the 
gates  of  delirium  into  the  vast  blank  halls  of  unconscious- 
ness. Next  day  she  felt  sick,  broken,  shattered  —  like  the 
drug-taker  after  his  debauch.  Each  relapse  seemed  now  an 
immeasurably  lower  fall.  Each  awakening  brought  with  it 
a  sharper  pang  of  despair :  as  when  a  wrecked  man  on  a  raft, 
who  in  his  madness  of  thirst  has  drunk  at  the  salt  spray, 
wakes  from  frenzied  dreams  to  see  the  wide  immensity  of 
ocean  mocking  him  with  space  great  enough  to  hold  all 
things  except  one  —  hope. 

Such  thoughts  as  these  came  sweeping  upon  her  like  waves 
of  light,  illuminating  the  darkest  recesses  of  her  mind,  show- 
ing the  innermost  meaning  of  every  cruel  mystery,  forcing 
her  to  see  and  to  know  herself  as  she  was,  and  not  as  she 
wished  to  be. 

Then  the  light  would  suddenly  fade.  The  stress  of 
emotion  had  relaxed,  and  she  could  consider  her  circum- 
stances calmly  —  could  try  to  make  the  best  of  him. 

A  difficult  task  —  a  poor  best. 

She  thought  of  his  varied  meannesses.  In  only  one  direc- 
tion was  he  ever  really  generous.  He  grudged  nothing  to 

150 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

himself  —  he  could  be  lavish  when  pondering  to  his  own  in- 
clinations, reckless  when  gratifying  the  moment's  whim,  and 
retrospectively  liberal  when  counting  the  cost  of  past  amuse- 
ments ;  but  in  his  dealings  with  the  rest  of  the  world  he  was 
cautious,  watchful,  tenaciously  close-fisted.  She  felt  a  vica- 
rious humiliation  in  hearing  him  thank  instead  of  tip;  or 
seeing  him,  when  he  had  failed  to  dodge  the  necessity  of  a 
gift,  make  the  gift  so  small  as  to  be  ludicrous.  Not  since 
he  carried  her  purse  at  the  London  restaurants  had  he  ever 
exhibited  a  large-handed  kindness  to  subordinates. 

He  never  alluded  to  the  household  expenses  —  had  ac- 
cepted as  quite  natural  the  fact  that  the  female  partner 
should  defray  the  expenses  of  the  household.  Without  a 
Please  or  a  Thank-you  he  took  board  and  lodging  free  of 
charge;  but  he  bought  for  himself  cigars,  liqueurs,  and  wine, 
and  he  always  spoke  of  my  brandy,  my  champagne,  etc.  It 
was  our  house,  but  my  wine.  Nevertheless,  the  habitual  use 
in  the  singular  of  the  personal  pronoun  did  not  render  him 
egotistically  anxious  to  pay  his  own  bills. 

Once,  when  after  delay  a  tobacconist  addressed  an  account 
to  her  care,  and  she  timidly  reproached  the  cigar-smoker  for 
a  lapse  of  memory  that  might  almost  seem  undignified,  she 
was  answered  with  chaffing,  laughing,  joviality. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  if  you're  so  afraid  of  our  credit  going 
down,  there's  an  easy  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  Write  a 
cheque  yourself,  and  clean  the  slate  for  me." 

But  one  must  make  allowances.  This  was  a  favourite 
phrase  of  hers,  and  it  helped  the  drift  of  her 'calmer  thoughts. 
As  he  said  so  often,  youth  has  its  characteristic  faults. 
Want  of  thought  is  not  necessarily  want  of  heart. 

Perhaps  when  he  began  to  work,  he  might  improve. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  he  possessed  the  capacity  for  work. 
He  had  worked,  hard  and  well.  Many  a  good  horse  that 
has  not  shied  or  swerved  when  kept  into  its  collar  will,  if 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

given  too  much  stable  and  too  many  beans,  show  unsus- 
pected vice  and  kick  the  cart  to  pieces.  And  the  cure  for 
your  horse,  the  medicine  for  your  man,  is  work. 

Of  course  he  had  many  redeeming  traits.  One  was  his 
jollity  —  not  often  disturbed,  if  people  would  humour  him. 
Comfort,  too,  in  the  recollection  that  he  treated  her  with 
respect  —  never  consciously  insulted  her  —  in  public. 

Sometimes  when  the  shadows  and  the  flickering  glow 
drowsily  slackened  in  their  dance,  and  sleep  with  soft  yet 
heavy  ringers  at  last  pressed  upon  her  eyelids,  she  was  willing 
to  believe  that  all  her  fiery  thought  and  shadowy  dread  was 
but  morbid  nonsense  occasioned  by  the  queer  state  of  her 
nerves,  and  by  nothing  else. 

Truly,  during  this  period  of  her  extreme  weakness,  she 
was  physically  incapable  of  standing  up  to  him;  there  was 
no  fight  left  in  her.  For  a  time  at  least,  she  could  not  at- 
tempt to  protect  herself,  or  anyone  else  who  looked  to  her 
for  protection. 

It  pained  her,  but  she  was  unable  to  interfere,  when  he 
roughly  repulsed  Gordon  Thompson. 

They  were  sitting  at  luncheon,  with  the  servant  going  in 
and  out  of  the  room;  she  heard  the  street  door  open  and 
shut;  there  was  a  sound  of  hob-nailed  boots,  and  then  came 
the  familiar  whistle  —  like  a  ghostly  echo  from  the  past. 

"Who  the  devil's  that?" 

"I  —  I  think  it  must  be  my  Linkfield  cousin." 

"Oh,  is  it?"  And  Marsden  jumped  up,  and  went  out 
to  the  landing. 

"Jen-ny!     Jen-ny!     You  up  there?" 

The  farmer  stood  at  the  bottom  of  the  steep  stairs,  and 
Marsden  was  at  the  top,  looking  down  at  him.  Mrs. 
Marsden  heard  nearly  the  whole  of  the  conversation,  but 
dared  not,  could  not  interfere. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Any  dinner  for  a  hungry  wayfarer?  " 

Gordon  Thompson,  furious  at  the  marriage,  had  missed 
many  mid-day  meals ;  but  now  he  came  to  pick  up  the  severed 
thread  of  kindness.  However,  he  was  not  confident;  his 
whistle  had  been  feeble,  tentative,  and  the  ascending  note  of 
his  voice  quavered.  In  order  to  propitiate,  he  had  brought 
from  Linkfield  a  market-gardener's  basket  with  celery  and 
winter  cabbages.  The  present  would  surely  make  them  glad 
to  see  him. 

"  What  do  you  want  here  ?  No  orders  are  given  at  the 
door.  We  buy  our  vegetables  at  Rogers's  in  High  Street. 
Don't  come  cadging  here.  Get  out." 

Marsden  wickedly  pretended  to  mistake  him  for  an  itin- 
erant greengrocer. 

"  Mayn't  I  go  up  ?  .  .  .  Is  it  to  be  cuts  ?  Am  I 
not  to  call  on  my  cousin  ?  " 

"  Who's  your  cousin,  I'd  like  to  know." 

"  Jen-ny  Thompson." 

"  No  one  of  that  name  lives  here." 

"  Jen-ny  Marsden  then.  I  say  —  it's  all  right.  You're 
him,  I  suppose.  Well,  I'm  Gordon  Thompson  —  your 
wife's  cousin." 

"  My  wife  never  had  a  cousin  of  that  name.  Before  she 
married  me,  she  married  a  man  called  Thompson  —  though 
she  didn't  marry  all  his  humbugging  beggarly  relations." 

"  Oh,  I  say  —  don't  go  on  like  that.  Don't  make  it 
cuts." 

"  Thompson  —  your  cousin  —  is  in  the  cemetery,  if  you 
wish  to  call  on  him.  He  has  been  there  a  long  time  —  wait- 
ing for  you ;  "  and  Marsden  laughed.  "  The  sexton  will 
tell  you  where  to  find  him.  .  .  .  Go  and  plant  your 
cabbages  out  there.  We  don't  want  'em  here." 

He  returned  to  the  luncheon  table  in  the  highest  good- 
humour. 

153 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"There,  old  girl,  I've  ridded  you  of  that  nuisance.  You 
won't  be  bothered  with  him  any  more." 

Mrs.  Marsden  could  not  answer.  She  could  not  even 
raise  her  eyes  from  the  table-cloth.  But  when  her  husband 
offered  to  give  her  a  rare  afternoon  treat  by  taking  her  for  a 
run  in  his  small  two-seated  car,  she  looked  up;  and,  meekly 
thanking  him,  accepted  the  invitation. 

As  the  car  carried  them  slowly  through  the  market-place, 
neatly  threading  its  way  among  laden  carts  and  emptied 
stalls,  she  saw  cousin  Gordon  standing,  rueful  and  discon- 
solate, outside  the  humble  tavern  at  which  it  was  the 
custom  of  the  lesser  sort  of  farmers  to  dine  together  on 
market-day.  Had  Gordon  dined,  or  had  anger  and  resent- 
ment deprived  him  of  appetite  and  spared  his  ill-filled 
purse  ? 

She  would  not  think  of  it.  She  turned,  and  watched  her 
husband's  face.  It  was  hard  as  granite  while  with  concen- 
trated attention  he  manipulated  the  steering  wheel,  moved 
a  lever,  or  sounded  his  brazen-tongued  horn  —  the  signal  of 
danger  to  anyone  who  refused  to  get  out  of  his  road. 

Almost  immediately,  they  were  in  the  open  country,  whirl- 
ing past  bare  fields  and  leafless  copses,  leaping  fiercely  at 
each  hill  that  opposed  them,  and  swooping  with  a  shrill, 
buzzing  triumph  down  the  long  slopes  of  the  valleys. 

"  Now  we  are  travelling,"  said  Marsden  joyously. 

She  nodded  her  head,  although  she  had  not  caught  the 
words ;  and  presently  he  shouted  close  to  her  ear. 

"  Moving  now,  aren't  we?     Doesn't  she  run  smooth?  " 

"  Yes,  yes.     Capital." 

The  wind,  breaking  on  the  glass  screen,  sang  as  it  swept 
over  them;  hedge-rows,  telegraph  poles,  and  wayside  cot- 
tages hurried  towards  them,  rising  and  growing  as  they 
came;  long  stretches  of  straight  road,  along  which  Mr. 
Young's  horses  used  to  plod  for  half  an  hour,  were  snatched 

154 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

at,  conquered,  and  contemptuously  thrown  behind,  almost 
before  one  could  recognize  them. 

That  pretty  country-house  which  she  had  always  admired 
passed  her;  and,  passing,  seemed  like  a  faintly  tinted  picture 
in  a  book  whose  pages  are  turned  too  fast  by  careless  hands. 
Naked  branches  of  high  trees,  broad  eaves  and  nestling 
windows,  weak  sunlight  upon  latticed  glass,  and  pale  smoke 
rising  from  clustered  chimneys  —  that  was  all  she  saw.  A 
few  dead  leaves  pretended  to  be  live  things,  scampered  be- 
side the  long  wall ;  a  few  dead  thoughts  revived  in  her  mind, 
and  swiftly  she  recalled  her  old  fancies,  the  dream  of  the 
future,  Enid  and  herself  living  together  so  quietly  beneath  the 
grey  roof ;  —  and  then  the  pretty  house  with  its  pretty 
grounds  had  been  left  far  behind.  It  had  lost  its  brief 
aspect  of  reality  as  completely  as  a  half-forgotten  dream. 

"  There,  we'll  go  easy  now."  They  were  approaching  a 
village,  and  he  reduced  the  speed.  "  You're  a  good  plucked 
'un,  Jane ; "  and  he  glanced  at  her  approvingly.  "  You 
don't  funk  a  little  bit  of  pace." 

They  stopped  at  an  inn,  thirty  miles  from  Mallingbridge, 
and  drank  tea  —  that  is  to  say,  Mrs.  Marsden  drank  tea 
and  Mr.  Marsden  drank  something  else,  for  the  good  of  the 
house. 

Then,  after  a  cigar,  he  lighted  his  lamps,  and  drove  her 
home  through  the  greyness,  the  dusk,  and  the  dark.  And  for 
the  three  hours  or  so  that  she  was  with  him,  for  the  whole 
time  that  this  outing  lasted,  she  was  almost  happy. 


11 


XV 

THE  nervous  distress  had  gone  —  with  extraor- 
dinary suddenness;  and  a  curiously  unruffled  calm  filled  her 
mind.  Nothing  matters.  This  is  not  all. 

She  was  a  deeply  religious  woman,  but  quite  unorthodox 
in  the  letter  of  her  faith.  There  might  be  as  many  rituals 
as  there  are  social  communities,  a  different  altar  for  every 
day  of  the  year;  but,  however  you  dressed  the  eternal  glory 
and  the  limitless  power  in  garments  taken  from  the  poor 
wardrobe  of  man's  imagination,  the  veritable  God  was  un- 
changed, unchanging.  And  her  toleration  of  the  diverse 
opinions  of  others  enabled  her  to  worship  as  comfortably 
under  the  high-vaulted  magnificence  of  a  Catholic  cathedral 
as  within  the  narrow  shabbiness  of  a  Wesleyan  chapel.  The 
perfume  of  swinging  censers  did  not  cloud  her  brain,  nor  the 
ugliness  of  white-washed  walls  grieve  her  eyes  —  any  con- 
secrated place  of  prayer  was  good  enough  to  pray  in. 

But  for  the  sake  of  old  associations,  by  reason  of  its 
familiar  homeliness,  its  air  of  solidity  without  pomp,  and 
a  simplicity  that  yet  is  not  undignified,  she  loved  this  parish 
church  of  St.  Saviour's;  and  it  was  here,  sitting  through  the 
long  undecorated  service,  that  mental  equanimity  was  most 
strangely  if  temporarily  restored  to  her.  Although  not  par- 
ticipating, she  stayed  for  the  celebration  of  the  communion ; 
and  while  the  mystic,  symbolic  rites  were  performed,  she 
neither  prayed  nor  meditated.  For  her  it  was  a  blank  pause, 
—  no  thought, —  nothing;  but  nevertheless  she  became  aware 
of  a  deepening  perception  of  rest  and  peace,  and  the  feeling 
that  she  had  been  uplifted  —  raised  to  a  spiritual  height 

156 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

from  which  she  could  look  down  on  the  common  pains  of 
earth,  and  see  their  intrinsically  trivial  character. 

Our  life,  be  it  what  it  may,  does  not  end  here.  This 
is  not  all.  Something  wider,  more  massive,  infinitely 
grander,  is  coming  to  us,  if  we  will  wait  patiently. 

She  sat  motionless  until  all  the  congregation  had  dispersed ; 
and  when  she  left  the  church,  there  was  an  expression  of 
gravity  on  her  face  and  a  sense  of  contentment  in  her  heart. 
At  the  sight  of  some  children  romping  by  the  church-yard 
railings,  she  smiled.  A  boy  pushed  a  girl  with  mirthful 
vigorousness,  and  she  spoke  to  him  gently. 

"  Don't  be  rough,  little  boy.  Take  care,  and  don't  hurt 
her  —  even  in  play." 

Then  she  gave  the  children  "  silver  sixpences  to  buy 
sweeties,"  and  went  slowly  down  the  court.  She  could 
think  kindly  and  benignantly  of  all  the  world.  There  was 
not  a  tinge  of  bitterness  remaining  when  she  thought  of  her 
husband. 

As  she  lay  in  bed  one  morning  after  a  night  of  dreamless 
sleep,  a  chance  word  dropped  by  Yates  set  her  lazily  think- 
ing of  the  last  date  on  which  she  had  suffered  from  those 
normal  and  not  accidental  fluctuations  of  energy  that  are 
produced  by  periodically  recurrent  causes.  Beginning  to 
count  the  weeks,  she  fancied  that  some  error  of  memory  was 
confusing  her  —  time  of  late  had  moved  with  such  heavy 
feet;  what  seemed  long  was  really  short  in  the  story  of  her 
days.  Then  she  began  to  count  the  days,  trying  to  make 
fixed  points,  and  laboriously  filling  the  gaps  that  intervened. 
Then  she  stopped  counting  and  thinking. 

Yates  had  gone  out  of  the  room,  and  she  lay  quite  still, 
with  relaxed  limbs  and  slackened  respiration. 

And  her  mind  seemed  dull  and  void,  though  wonder  stirred 
and  thrilled.  It  was  like  dawn  in  a  hill-girt  valley  —  black 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

darkness  mingling  with  silver  mist;  shadows  growing  thin, 
but  not  retreating;  the  ribbed  sides  of  the  mountains  very 
slowly  becoming  more  and  more  solidly  stupendous,  but  re- 
fusing to  disclose  the  details  of  their  form  or  colour,  al- 
though, beyond  the  vast  ramparts  with  which  they  aid  the 
night,  the  sun  is  surely  rising.  Not  till  the  sun  bursts  in 
fire  above  the  eastern  wall  does  the  day  begin. 

So,  with  flooding  golden  light,  the  splendid  hope  came  to 
her. 

She  waited  for  a  few  more  days.  There  was  no  mistake  ; 
she  knew  that  she  had  counted  correctly;  but  she  pretended 
to  herself  that  she  must  allow  a  wide  margin  to  cover  the 
contingency  of  miscalculation. 

Then  she  spoke  of  the  facts  to  Yates,  after  extracting  a 
solemn  vow  of  secrecy.  Yates  said  they  could  draw  only 
one  conclusion  from  the  facts ;  it  was  impossible  to  doubt  — 
but  they  would  know  for  certain  next  time.  They  must 
count  again ;  and,  after  allowing  another  wide  margin,  settle 
the  approaching  date  which  would  infallibly  confirm  their 
hopes  or  cruelly  dissipate  them. 

For  a  little  while  longer,  then,  she  must  keep  her  splendid 
secret. 

Her  heart  was  overflowing  with  a  joy  such  as  she  had 
thought  she  could  never  feel  again.  And  with  the  warm 
stream  of  bliss  there  were  gushing  fountains  of  gratitude. 
She  will  forgive  her  husband  everything,  because  he  has 
crowned  her  life  with  this  ineffable  glory. 

It  justifies  her  marriage;  in  a  manner  more  perfect  than 
she  had  dared  to  imagine,  it  gives  her  back  her  youth.  All 
mothers  at  the  cradle  have  one  age  —  the  age  of  mother- 
hood. And  irresistibly  it  will  win  his  respect  and  love  — 
some  love  must  come  for  the  mother  of  his  babe. 

Although  she  was  waiting  with  so  much  anxiety  until  the 

158 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

second  significant  epoch  should  be  passed,  she  found  that 
time  glided  by  her  now  easily  and  swiftly.  Yates  —  the 
wise  old  spinster  —  assuming  in  a  more  marked  degree  that 
air  of  matronly  authority  that  she  had  worn  before  the  wed- 
ding, told  her  of  the  vital  importance  of  taking  good  rest, 
good  nourishment,  and  good  cheerful  views  regarding  the 
future. 

So  she  often  lay  upon  the  sofa  in  her  room  —  resting, — 
smiling  and  dreaming.  She  had  no  real  doubt  now.  It  was 
miraculous,  glorious,  true.  She  thought  of  the  many  symp- 
toms that  she  had  noticed  but  never  considered,  so  that  the 
revelation  of  their  meaning  brought  the  same  glad  surprise  as 
to  a  young  and  innocent  bride.  She  might  have  guessed  — 
The  dreadful  instability  of  nerves;  longings  for  the  widest 
outlet  of  physical  effort,  alternating  with  weak  horrors  of 
the  slightest  task;  and,  above  all,  the  facile  tears  always 
springing  to  her  eyes  —  these  things,  in  one  who  by  habit 
was  firm  of  purpose  and  who  wept  with  difficulty,  should 
have  been  promptly  recognized  as  unfailing  signs  of  her  con- 
dition. Lesser  signs,  too,  had  not  been  wanting  —  the  va- 
grant fancies,  the  mental  ups  and  downs  which  correspond 
with  the  changed  states  of  the  body;  and  she  groped  in  the 
dim  past,  comparing  her  recent  sensations  and  reveries  with 
those  experienced  twenty-three  years  ago,  before  the  birth 
of  Enid.  She  might  have  guessed. —  But  truly  perhaps  she 
had  been  too  humble  of  spirit  ever  to  prepare  herself  for  the 
admission  of  so  proud  a  thought.  Even  in  the  brightly 
coloured  dreams  from  which  realities  had  so  rudely  awakened 
her,  she  was  not  advancing  towards  so  triumphant  an 
apotheosis. 

But  no  morning  sickness!  Not  yet.  It  will  begin  later 
this  time  —  for  the  second  child ;  and  it  will  not  be  so  bad. 
That  first  time  —  when  poor  Enid  was  coming  into  the 
world  —  she  was  but  a  slip  of  a  girl ;  depressed  by  heavy 

159 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

care ;  worn  out  by  the  watchings  and  nursings  of  her  mother's 
illness.  But  now  everything  was  and  would  be  different. 
She  possessed  robust  and  long-established  health;  her  hus- 
band was  a  magnificently  strong  man;  their  child  would  be 
a  most  noble  gorgeous  creature. 

And  each  time  that  she  thought  thus  of  the  child's  father, 
the  fountain  springs  of  her  intense  gratitude  rose  and  gushed 
higher  and  broader.  She  was  only  vaguely  conscious  of  the 
extent  of  the  revulsion  of  her  feelings  where  he  was  con- 
cerned. The  change  seemed  so  natural  and  so  little  myste- 
rious that  she  did  not  measure  it.  With  the  awakening  of 
the  new  hopes,  there  had  arisen  a  new  love  for  him  —  a  love 
purged  of  all  impurities. 

This  was  the  real  love  —  wide-reaching  sympathy,  infinite 
tenderness;  the  love  that  can  understand  all  and  forgive  all; 
the  instinct  of  protection  blending  with  the  instinct  of  sub- 
mission; the  maternal  feeling  extending  beyond  the  unborn 
child  to  its  creator  —  making  them  both  her  children. 

One  day  when  he  said  he  wanted  to  ask  her  a  favour, 
she  told  him,  before  he  added  another  word,  that  she  felt  sure 
she  would  grant  the  favour.  She  was  reading,  in  the  draw- 
ing-room; and  she  slipped  the  book  under  the  cushion  of  the 
sofa,  and  looked  up  at  him  with  an  expectant  smile. 

Then,  showing  some  slight  embarrassment,  he  explained 
that  he  had  been  "  outrunning  the  constable." 

All  the  arrangements  of  the  partnership  were  formally 
settled;  nothing  had  been  overlooked  by  clever  Mr.  Pren- 
tice; everything  was  cut  and  dried;  certain  proportionately 
fixed  sums  were  to  be  passed  from  time  to  time  to  the  private 
credit  of  each  partner;  and  then  at  the  appointed  seasons, 
when  the  true  profits  of  the  firm  had  been  ascertained, 
amounts  making  up  the  balance  of  earned  income  would  be 
paid  over.  All  the  usual  precautions,  and  some  that  per- 
haps were  rather  unusual,  had  been  adopted  in  order  to 

1 60 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

prevent  the  partners  from  anticipating  profits  by  premature 
drafts  upon  the  funds  of  the  firm.  But  now,  as  Marsden 
explained,  he  had  exhausted  his  private  account  and  was  in 
sad  need  of  a  little  ready  to  keep  him  going. 

She  instantly  agreed  to  give  him  the  money  —  with  the 
pleasure  a  too  indulgent  mother  might  feel  in  giving  to  a 
spendthrift  son.  Extravagance  —  what  is  it  ?  Only  one  of 
those  faults  of  youth  by  which  the  thoughtless  young  culprits 
endear  themselves  to  their  elderly  guardians. 

"  Yes,  Dick,  I'll  write  the  cheque  at  once.  My  cheque- 
book is  over  there." 

She  rose  slowly  from  the  sofa,  and  slowly  moved  across 
the  room  to  the  Sheraton  desk  near  the  window.  Yates 
had  begged  her  to  beware  of  abrupt  and  hasty  movements, 
and  she  walked  about  the  house  now  with  careful,  well-con- 
sidered footsteps. 

"  Of  course,  old  girl,  if  you  can  see  your  way  to  making 
the  amount  for  a  little  more?  " 

And  she  made  it  for  a  little  more. 

He  was  delighted.  "  Upon  my  word,  Jane,  you're  a 
trump.  No  rot  about  you.  When  you  see  anyone  in  a  hole, 
you  don't  badger  him  with  a  pack  of  questions  —  you  just 
pull  him  out  of  the  hole.  .  .  ." 

He  thanked  her  and  praised  her  so  much  that  she  melted 
in  tenderness,  and  almost  told  him  her  secret.  She  looked 
at  him  fondly  and  admiringly.  He  seemed  so  strong  and 
so  brave  —  with  his  stiff  close-cropped  hair  and  his  white 
evenly-shaped  teeth, —  laughing  gleefully  as  he  pocketed  his 
present, —  like  a  great  happy  schoolboy.  While  she  looked 
at  him,  the  secret  was  trying  to  escape,  was  burning  her  lips, 
and  knocking  at  her  breast  with  each  quickened  heart- 
beat. 

She  succeeded,  however,  in  restraining  the  expansive  im- 
pulse. The  delay  can  but  heighten  the  triumph  —  it  is  so 

161 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

much  grander  to  be  able  to  say,  not  "  I  think"  but  "  I 
know" 

When  he  had  hurried  away  to  cash  his  cheque,  she  took 
out  the  Book  that  she  had  been  reading  and  had  shyly  con- 
cealed under  the  cushion.  It  was  the  Bible.  Reverently 
reopening  it  and  musingly  turning  the  leaves,  she  glanced  at 
those  chapters  of  Genesis  that  tell  of  the  first  gift  of  human 
life.  .  .  .  "In  sorrow  thou  shalt  bring  forth  children ; 
and  thy  desire  shall  be  to  thy  husband;  and  he  shall  rule 
over  thee." 

The  softness  and  the  exaltation  of  her  mood  showed  very 
plainly  in  the  expression  of  her  face  as  she  read  the  nobly 
fabled  origin  of  love  and  marriage.  While  reading  she 
made  vows  to  God  and  to  herself.  If  all  went  well,  she 
would  cheerfully  bear  the  hardest  usage,  at  her  husband's 
hands.  She  would  never  reproach  him,  she  would  ever  be 
a  comfort  to  him.  And  so  long  as  their  child  lived,  the 
torch-bearer  carrying  the  fire  of  life  kindled  from  their  joint 
lives  should  guide  her  steps  through  the  darkest  places  to- 
wards the  distant  glimmer  of  eternal  light. 

That  night  she  was  roused  from  her  first  sleep  by  the 
sound  of  heavily  blundering  footsteps.  Mr.  Marsden  had 
come  home  in  an  unusually  jolly  state.  His  wife  heard  him 
stumbling  about  the  adjacent  room,  knocking  over  a  chair, 
laughing,  and  singing  drunken  snatches  of  song. 

He  had  never  before  been  quite  so  jolly.  For  a  minute 
the  hilarious  music  saddened  her;  but  then  she  felt  quite 
happy  again.  He  was  not  really  drunk  —  merely  excited, 
elated.  And  besides,  this  sort  of  thing  would  not  occur  in 
the  future:  a  generous  fear  of  the  questioning  eyes  of  an  in- 
nocent child  would  help  to  keep  him  straight. 

And  she  fell  to  thinking  of  domestic  arrangements  that 
would  be  necessary  before  the  great  event.  His  bedroom 
and  the  dressing-room  used  to  be  the  day  and  night  nursery 

162 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

when  Enid  was  a  baby.  The  grandmother  slept  in  the  room 
at  present  occupied  by  Yates,  and  Yates  slept  in  a  smaller 
room.  How  would  they  manage  now?  This  room  should 
be  the  night  nursery  —  she  herself  could  sleep  anywhere. 
Probably  Yates  would  have  to  give  up  her  nice  room  —  but 
Yates  would  not  mind.  And,  yes  —  the  difficulty  must  be 
confronted  —  Dick  must  give  up  his  dressing-room.  Would 
he  mind  ? 

No.  Every  difficulty  would  be  surmounted.  All  would 
be  smoothly  and  easily  arranged  in  the  end.  Dreamily 
sweeping  away  the  difficulties,  she  sank  again  into  restful 
sleep. 

That  important  second  date  was  drawing  near,  and  Yates 
was  becoming  more  and  more  fussily  attentive.  It  taxed  all 
her  strength  of  mind  to  keep  the  secret  to  herself;  she  longed 
for  the  time  when  it  might  be  made  public  property. 

"  Look  here,  ma'am,"  she  said  mysteriously,  "  don't  let 
anyone  see  us  opening  this  parcel.  Let's  go  upstairs  and 
open  it  there,  quiet  and  comfortable." 

"What  is  it,  Yates?" 

Upstairs  in  the  bedroom,  Yates,  with  many  shrewd  nods 
and  meaning  smiles,  untied  her  parcel,  and  displayed  to  Mrs. 
Marsden  its  entrancingly  fascinating  contents. 

"Oh,  Yates!" 

They  were  the  prettiest  imaginable  little  baby-things  — 
woollen  socks,  flannel  robes,  etc.,  articles  of  costume  suitable 
to  the  very  earliest  stage ;  together  with  materials  for  binders, 
wrappers,  and  so  on,  that  would  require  cutting,  stitching, 
making. 

"  The  work  will  do  you  good,"  said  Yates.  "  Just  to 
amuse  yourself,  when  you're  sitting  all  alone  up  here  —  and 
to  keep  your  mind  off  the  strain." 

"  Oh,  Yates,  they  are  lovely.     Where  did  you  get  them?  " 

163 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Don't  you  bother  where  I  got  them,"  said  Yates,  look- 
ing shame-faced  all  at  once.  "  I  don't  intend  to  tell  you." 
But  then  she  went  on  defiantly :  "  Well,  if  you  must  know,  I 
got  them  in  the  children's  outfitting  department  —  over  at 
Bence's." 

Her  mistress  was  not  in  the  least  angry.  She  smiled  at 
the  sound  of  the  rival's  name ;  —  and,  of  course,  in  this 
particular  department  there  was  no  rivalry  between  the  two 
shops. 

Yates  was  particular  that  her  interesting  patient  should 
enjoy  a  moderate  amount  of  fresh  air,  and  advised  that  in 
these  cases  gentle  carriage  exercise  is  distinctly  beneficial. 

Several  times  therefore  a  brougham  was  procured  from 
Mr.  Young's  stables,  and  mistress  and  maid  went  for  a  quiet 
afternoon  drive.  Yates  would  have  preferred  to  enjoy  these 
airings  earlier  in  the  day,  but  she  agreed  with  Mrs.  Marsden 
that  a  morning  drive  might  appear  "  conspicuous."  As  it 
was,  Yates  made  the  excursion  quite  sufficiently  remarkable 
—  hot-water  bottle  for  the  patient's  feet,  rugs  for  her  legs, 
three  or  four  shawls  for  her  shoulders. 

"  And  don't  you  drive  too  fast,"  said  Yates  sternly  to  Mr. 
Young's  coachman.  "  Take  us  along  quiet.  .  .  .  And 
if  you  meet  any  of  those  great  engines  on  the  road,  just  turn 
round  and  go  the  other  way." 

"  I  don't  want  you  frightened,"  she  told  Mrs.  Marsden, 
"  if  only  for  half  a  minute." 

Mr.  Young's  horses,  at  an  easy  jog  trot,  took  them  along 
very,  very  quietly;  some  air,  but  not  too  much,  blew  in  upon 
them  pleasantly;  and  throughout  the  drive  the  two  women 
talked  unceasingly  of  the  same  engrossing  subject. 

"Which  do  you  hope  for,  yourself,  ma'am?" 

"  Yates,  I  scarcely  know." 

"  Well,  ma'am,  I'll  tell  you  candid,  it's  a  girl  /  am  hoping 
.for." 

164 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"But  whichever  it  is  —  boy  or  girl  —  you  II  love  it  just 
the  same,  won't  you,  Yates?  " 

"  Indeed  I  shall,  ma'am." 

And  they  discussed  Christian  names. 

"  If  it  is  a  boy,  of  course  I  shall  wish  him  to  have  his 
father's  name  for  one." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,  ma'am." 

"Richard  for  his  first  name;  and,  if  Mr.  Marsden  ap- 
proves, I  shall  call  him  Martin.  I  should  like  him  to  bear 
the  name  of  Saint  Martin  —  for  a  little  romantic  reason  of 
my  own.  And  I  also  like  the  name  of  Roderick  —  if  that 
isn't  too  grand." 

"  I  like  the  plain  names  best,"  said  Yates.  "  If  it's  a 
girl,  I  do  hope  and  trust  you'll  give  her  your  own  name, 
ma'am.  You  can  never  get  a  better  name  than  Jane.  Let 
her  be  Miss  Jane." 

They  met  no  ugly  traction  engines  to  upset  the  horses,  and 
disturb  the  patient's  composure.  They  chose  the  level  shelt- 
ered roads,  and  avoided  the  dangerous  windy  hills;  and  Mrs. 
Marsden  looked  through  the  half-shut  window  at  the  fea- 
tureless landscape,  and  thought  it  almost  beautiful,  even  at 
this  dead  time  of  the  year.  It  was  bare  and  nearly  colour- 
less,—  all  the  hedgerows  of  a  dull  brown,  the  far-off  woods 
a  misty  grey,  and  here  and  there,  seen  through  the  black 
field-gates,  patches  of  snow  faintly  sparkling  beneath  the 
feeble  light.  The  tardy  spring  as  yet  showed  scarce  a  sign  of 
nascent  energy.  But  the  winter  had  no  terrors  for  her  now. 
There  was  summer  in  her  heart. 

The  date  had  passed;  and,  passing,  had  left  apparent  cer- 
tainty. 

Yates  was  wildly  excited,  irrepressibly  jubilant. 
"  You'll  tell  him  now,  won't  you,  ma'am  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  can  tell  him  now." 
165 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Everybody  may  know  it  now,  ma'am  —  And,  oh,  won't 
they  be  glad  to  hear  the  news  in  the  shop." 

But  naturally  Mr.  Marsden  must  hear  the  news  before 
anybody  else;  and  unluckily  Mr.  Marsden  was  not  in 
Mallingbridge  to  hear  it.  He  had  been  expected  home  two 
days  ago,  but  something  was  detaining  him  in  London. 

This  final  useless  delay,  after  the  long  unavoidable  delay, 
seemed  more  than  Mrs.  Marsden  could  support. 

"  Oh,  why  is  he  away?  Oh,  Yates,  I  want  him  —  I  want 
him  with  me.  Oh,  oh !  "  She  burst  into  a  sobbing  fit,  and 
rung  her  hands  piteously.  "  Yates,  fetch  him.  Bring  my 
husband  back  to  me.  Don't  let  him  leave  me  now  —  of  all 
times." 

This  was  in  the  morning,  before  Mrs.  Marsden  had  got 
up.  After  sobbing  for  a  little  while,  she  became  suddenly 
faint  and  breathless,  and  sank  back  upon  her  pillow.  Yates, 
scared  by  her  faintness  and  whiteness,  ran  out  of  the  room 
and  despatched  a  hasty  messenger. 

She  could  not  fetch  the  husband ;  so  the  good  soul  did  the 
next  best  thing,  and  sent  for  the  doctor. 

When  she  returned  to  the  bedroom  Mrs.  Marsden  seemed 
all  right  again. 

"  Doctor  Eldridge  is  coming  to  see  you,  ma'am." 

"Is  he?" 

"  It's  only  wise,"  said  Yates  authoritatively,  "  that  he 
should  take  charge  of  the  case  now.  It's  full  time  we  had 
him  in.  He  knows  your  constitution  —  and  you  can  trust 
him,  and  feel  quite  safe  to  go  on  just  as  he  advises  you," 

Dr.  Eldridge  was  a  long  time  alone  with  the  patient. 
After  Yates  had  been  told  to  leave  them,  he  talked  gently  and 
gravely  to  his  old  friend.  He  confessed  to  being  rather 
sceptical  by  habit  of  mind;  in  forming  a  diagnosis  he  was 
perhaps  always  disposed  to  err  on  the  side  of  caution,  and 

166 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

thus  he  often  declined  to  accept  what  at  first  sight  seemed 
an  obvious  inference  until  it  had  been  corroborated  by  in- 
disputable evidence ;  —  but  then  again,  all  his  experience  had 
shown  him  how  prudent,  how  necessary  it  is  to  prepare  one- 
self for  disappointment.  ...  He  thought  that  Mrs. 
Marsden  should,  if  possible,  prepare  herself  for  disappoint- 
ment. 

Outside  the  room,  he  spoke  to  Yates  with  a  severity  that 
was  only  mitigated  by  contempt. 

"What  nonsense  have  you  been  stuffing  her  up  with? 
It's  too  bad  of  you."  And  then  the  professional  contempt 
for  amateur  doctors  sounded  in  the  severe  tone  of  his  voice. 
"  You  ought  to  know  better  at  your  time  of  life." 

He  came  again  next  day,  and  told  Mrs.  Marsden  the 
bitter  truth.  The  correct  interpretation  of  the  symptoms 
was  far,  very  far  different  from  that  which  she  had  imagined. 
And  then  he  pronounced  the  words  of  doom.  It  was  not 
the  birth  of  hope,  but  the  death  of  hope.  Somewhat  earlier 
than  one  would  have  predicted  as  likely,  she  had  passed  the 
turning-point  in  the  cyclic  history  of  her  existence. 

A  deadly,  numbing  apathy  descended  upon  her.  She  was 
not  ill;  but  in  order  to  escape  the  infinitely  oppressive  duties 
of  dressing,  sitting  at  meals,  walking  up  and  down  stairs, 
listening  to  voices  and  answering  questions,  she  pretended 
illness;  and,  to  cover  the  pretence,  Dr.  Eldridge  frequently 
visited  her. 

Day  after  day  she  lay  upon  her  sofa,  watching  the  feeble 
daylight  turn  to  dusk,  staring  at  the  red  glow  of  the  coals 
or  the  golden  flicker  of  burning  wood  —  feeling  too  sad  to 
reproach,  too  weak  to  curse  the  inexorable  laws  of  destiny. 

Her  husband  used  to  enter  the  room  noisily  and  jovially, 
with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth  and  a  shining  silk  hat  on  the  back 
of  his  head. 

167 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  What  the  dickens  is  the  matter  with  you,  Jane?  " 

He  did  not  guess.     He  could  never  read  her  thoughts. 

"  I  believe  you  ought  to  rouse  yourself,  old  girl.  I  sup- 
pose old  Eldridge  sees  a  chance  of  running  up  a  nice  little 
bill  —  and  Yates  will  have  her  bit  out  of  it.  Between  them, 
they'll  persuade  you  you're  going  to  kick  the  bucket." 

"  I  feel  so  tired,  Dick." 

"  Then  go  on  taking  it  easy,"  said  Marsden  genially. 
"  But  here's  my  tip  —  look  out  for  another  doctor,  and 
another  maid.  I  wouldn't  bid  twopence,  if  both  of  them 
were  put  up  to  auction." 

Another  time  he  said,  "  Jane,  do  you  twig  why  I  am 
wearing  my  topper?  That  means  business.  Yes,  I'm  going 
to  throw  myself  into  my  work  now,  heart  and  soul.  Buck 
up  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  come  and  see  how  I'm  setting 
about  me." 

While  he  stood  by  the  door,  talking  and  smoking,  she 
looked  at  him  with  dull  but  kind  eyes. 

Some  of  the  glamour  of  that  vanished  hope  still  hung 
about  him;  and  the  sense  of  gratitude,  although  now  mean- 
ingless, lingered  for  a  long  while.  But  for  herself,  it  would 
have  been  a  fact  instead  of  an  hysterical  fancy.  It  was  her 
fault,  not  his. 

When  he  had  shut  the  door,  she  thought  of  herself  dully, 
without  pity,  in  stupid  wonder. 

This  is  the  end.  The  heats  of  summer  gone;  the  mimic 
warmth  of  autumn  gone,  too ;  nothing  left  but  the  cold,  dead 
winter  —  the  end  of  all. 


XVI 

THE  state  of  apathetic  indifference  continued;  the  slow 
months  dragged  by,  and  still  she  could  not  shake  off  her  in- 
vincible weariness  and  spur  herself  to  resume  activity. 

Once  or  twice  Enid  invited  her  to  pay  the  long-postponed 
visit  of  inspection ;  and,  when  these  invitations  were  refused, 
she  offered  to  come  to  see  her  mother.  But  she  was  put  off 
with  vague  excuses.  The  weather  seemed  so  doubtful  this 
week;  later  in  the  year  Mrs.  Marsden  would  certainly 
make  the  eight-mile  journey,  and  examine  the  charming 
home  of  her  daughter  and  her  son-in-law. 

It  was  an  effort  even  to  write  a  letter;  nothing  really 
interested  her ;  her  highest  wish  was  to  be  left  alone. 

She  heard  and  occasionally  saw  what  was  happening  in 
the  shop;  but  the  old  keen  delight  in  business  had  faded 
with  all  other  delights.  She  was  not  wanted  down  there 
behind  the  glass.  Her  husband  was  master  there  now,  and 
he  did  not  require  her  assistance.  He  was  pushing  on  with 
his  programme  of  change  and  innovation;  he  brought  her 
architects'  drawings  and  builders'  plans  to  sign,  and  she 
signed  them  without  questioning;  he  jauntily  told  her  about 
his  new  Japanese  department,  his  new  agency  trade,  his 
revolutionised  carpet  store,  and  she  listened  meekly  to  every- 
thing, appeared  willing  to  concur  in  anything. 

He  was  inordinately  pleased  with  himself,  and  his  boast- 
ful self-confidence  brimmed  over  in  noisy  chatter.  He  had 
declared  war  against  Bence;  henceforth,  he  vowed,  the  tit- 
for-tat  policy  should  be  pursued  with  implacable  thorough- 
ness. 

169 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Look  out  for  yourself,  Mr.  Bence,"  he  said  vainglori- 
ously.  "  It  has  been  very  nice  for  you  up  to  now.  Be- 
cause you  saw  a  naked  face,  you  smacked  it.  But  now 
you're  smacked  back  —  as  you'll  jolly  well  find.  I  expect 
my  new  fascia  has  opened  your  eyes  to  what's  coming." 

The  new  fascia  had  been  erected.  It  was  made  of  chest- 
nut wood  —  a  most  artistic  up-to-date  piece  of  work,  with 
the  names  Thompson  &  Marsden  alternating  in  carved  loz- 
enges over  all  the  windows,  with  linked  festoons  of  flowers, 
with  high  relief  and  intaglio  cutting  —  with  what  not  deco- 
rative and  grand.  It  ran  the  whole  length  of  the  street 
frontage  and  round  the  corner  up  St.  Saviour's  Court,  and  it 
cost  £750. 

But  that  expense  was  a  fleabite  when  compared  with  the 
cost  of  the  structural  alterations  that  were  now  fairly  in 
hand. 

The  yard  was  being  completely  covered.  The  carts 
would  drive  into  what  would  be  the  ground  floor;  and 
above  this  there  would  be  three  floors  of  packing  rooms, 
with  every  imaginable  convenience  of  lifts,  slides,  and  shoots, 
for  manipulating  the  goods  and  discharging  them  at  the 
public.  Meanwhile,  the  old  packing  rooms  had  been  hud- 
dled into  unused  cellars,  and  the  space  that  they  had  occu- 
pied in  the  basement,  indeed  the  entire  basement,  was  being 
excavated  to  an  astounding  depth.  Soon  an  immense  sub- 
terranean area  would  be  scooped  out;  vast  halls  with  wide 
staircases  would  be  constructed ;  a  shop  below  a  shop  would 
be  ready  for  Mr.  Marsden's  use. 

But  what  he  proposed  to  do  with  it  he  had  not  as  yet 
disclosed.  He  was  feverishly  anxious  to  get  all  the  work 
finished,  but  the  new  basement  especially  occupied  his  ambi- 
tious dreams. 

"  Mears,  old  buck,"  he  said  often,  "  I'm  itching  to  get 
down  there.  And  how  damn  slow  they  are,  aren't  they?  " 

170 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Having  had  his  fling  as  a  gentleman  at  large,  he  seemed 
to  enjoy  for  a  little  while  the  quieter  but  more  massive 
importance  derived  from  his  position  as  the  proprietor  of  a 
successful  business,  the  employer  of  labour,  the  patron  of  art 
and  manufacture.  He  paid  handsomely  for  the  insertion  of 
his  portrait  in  the  local  newspaper,  and  arranged  with  the 
editor  that  paragraphs  about  himself  and  his  operations 
should  appear  amongst  news  items  without  the  objectionable 
word  Advertisement.  On  early  closing  day  he  swaggered 
about  the  town,  feeling  that  he  was  one  of  its  most  prom- 
inent citizens,  and  proving  himself  always  ready  to  stand  a 
drink  to  anyone  who  would  say  so. 

When  his  architect  came  down  from  London  to  go  over 
the  works  with  the  contractor,  he  carried  them  off  to  the 
Dolphin,  before  anything  had  been  done,  and  gave  them  a 
sumptuous  luncheon  —  sat  bragging  and  drinking  with  them 
for  hours.  When  at  dusk  they  returned  to  the  shop,  Mars- 
den  was  red  and  noisy,  the  architect  was  in  a  fuddled  state, 
and  the  contractor  frankly  hiccoughed. 

"  Down  with  you,  old  boy,"  said  Marsden  jovially. 
"  And  buck  'em  up  —  the  lazy  bounders.  Get  a  move  on. 
I  want  this  job  finished;  and  it  seems  to  me  you're  all 
playing  with  it." 

After  the  governor  had  been  lunching  he  lost  that  sense 
of  decorum  which  from  long  habit  should  make  it  almost  as 
impossible  to  speak  loudly  in  a  shop  as  in  a  church.  All  the 
assistants  and  several  customers  were  scandalized  by  the 
noisy  tongues  of  Mr.  Marsden  and  his  architect. 

"  And  you  jolly  well  remember  that  everything's  to  be 
done  without  interference  to  my  business.  It's  in  the  con- 
tract —  and  don't  you  forget  it.  Start  to  finish  —  that  was 
the  bargain  —  business  to  be  carried  on  as  usual." 

"  Oh,  we  don't  forget,  Mist'  Marsd No  interferens. 

Bizniz  muz  go  on  zactly  as  usual." 
12  171 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

But  did  it?  Mears  was  appalled  by  the  disturbance  and 
confusion.  Outside  in  the  street  a  long  line  of  builders' 
carts  blocked  the  approach  of  carriage- folk ;  from  beneath 
the  windows,  through  the  opened  gratings,  earth  and  gravel 
and  lumps  of  broken  concrete  were  being  painfully  hauled 
out;  the  pavement  was  covered  with  mud,  obstructed  with 
debris,  so  that  foot-people  could  not  pass  in  comfort,  and 
the  Borough  Surveyor  had  sent  three  notices  urgently  re- 
questing the  abatement  of  what  was  a  public  as  well  as  a 
private  nuisance.  Inside  the  shop  one  heard  growling  thun- 
ders from  the  depths  below  one's  feet,  and  sudden  explosions 
as  if  one  were  walking  over  a  volcano,  while  from  every 
entrance  to  the  dark  vaults  there  issued  clouds  of  destructive 
lime  dust.  Sometimes  a  department  was  shut  up  for  an  hour 
while  a  steel  girder  was  rolled  along  the  floor  by  twenty 
perspiring  men;  processions  of  bucket-bearers  emerged  unex- 
pectedly; and  one  saw  in  every  mirror  a  grimy  face  or  a 
plaster-stained  back. 

What  was  the  use  of  asking  ladies  to  step  upstairs  and 
view  our  Oriental  novelties,  when  the  nearest  staircase  was 
temporarily  converted  into  a  slide  for  roped  planks? 

Ladies  said  No,  thank  you;   they  would  call  again. 

"  This  is  going  to  hit  us,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Mears  gloomily. 
"  It  is  going  to  hit  us  hard  if  it  continues  much  longer." 

"  But  it  won't  continue,"  said  Marsden  irritably. 
"  They're  bound  by  contract  to  finish  before  the  twentieth 
of  next  month.  Besides,  you  can't  make  an  omelette  without 
breaking  eggs." 

There  could  be  no  doubt,  thought  Mears,  as  to  the 
broken  eggs;  but  the  question  was,  Would  Mr.  Marsden's 
omelette  ever  come  to  table,  or  would  it  get  tossed  into  the 
fire  with  so  much  else  that  seemed  finding  an  end  there? 

Towards  the  completion  of  the  contract  time,  Marsden 
more  than  once  forced  his  wife  to  come  through  the  door  of 

172 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

communication,  and  have  a  look  round  the  altered  shop. 
She  was  admittedly  convalescent  now.  She  had  not  de- 
murred when  the  master  of  the  house  gave  Dr.  Eldridge 
what  he  called  "  a  straight  tip  "  to  cease  paying  professional 
visits.  She  had  not  protested  when,  in  her  presence,  an 
almost  straighter  tip  was  given  to  Yates  that  the  boring  fuss 
about  a  malady  of  the  imagination  must  cease.  In  fact  she 
herself  had  said  that  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  her. 

She  could  not  therefore  refuse  to  show  herself  when  he 
explicitly  commanded  her  to  do  so. 

Many  changes  —  as  she  passed  by  Woollens  and  China 
and  Glass,  it  was  like  walking  in  a  dream,  among  the  dis- 
torted shadows  of  familiar  objects.  Miss  Woolfrey  ran  out 
of  China  and  Glass  to  welcome  her;  but  the  other  assistants, 
male  and  female,  seemed  shy  of  attracting  her  attention. 
Changes  on  all  sides,  which  she  looked  at  with  indifferent 
eyes  —  but  one  change  that  slowly  compelled  a  more  careful 
observation.  Perhaps  downstairs  this,  the  greatest  of  the 
changes,  would  not  be  observable  ?  But  no,  it  was  noticed  as 
plainly  downstairs  as  upstairs. 

There  were  fewer  customers. 

She  glanced  at  the  clock  outside  the  counting-house. 
Three- twen ty !  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  at  this  sea- 
son of  the  year,  the  shop  should  be  thronged  with  customers; 
and  it  appeared  to  be,  comparatively  speaking,  empty. 

Marsden  was  waiting  to  receive  her  behind  the  glass,  in 
her  old  sanctum. 

"  Come  in,  Jane.     Here  I  am  —  hard  at  it." 

Her  bureau  had  disappeared.  Where  it  used  to  stand 
there  was  a  large  but  compact  American  desk;  and  in  front 
of  this  Mr.  Marsden  sat  enthroned.  She  glanced  round  the 
room,  and  saw  a  small  new  writing-table  in  the  space  be- 
tween the  second  safe  and  the  wall. 

"  I  thought  you  could  sit  over  there,  Jane,"  said  Marsden, 

173 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

pointing  with  his  patent  self-feeding  pen.  "  You'd  be  out 
of  the  draught  —  for  one  thing." 

She  was  to  be  pushed  into  a  corner,  to  be  made  to  under- 
stand her  insignificant  position  under  the  new  order  of  things, 
—  but  she  did  not  protest. 

"  Now  then.     Come  along." 

He  took  her  first  of  all  through  the  Furniture,  and 
showed  her  his  sub-department  for  the  sale  of  desks  and  all 
other  office  requisites  similar  to  those  which  he  had  purchased 
for  his  own  use.  This  was  what  he  called  agency  work. 

"  No  risk,  don't  you  see,  old  girl !  Doing  the  trick  with 
other  people's  capital."  And  he  explained  how  the  German 
firm  that  supplied  England  with  these  American  goods  had 
given  him  most  advantageous  terms.  "  A  splendid  agree- 
ment for  us  I  If  the  things  don't  go  off  quick,  we  just  shovel 
the  lot  back  at  them  —  and  try  something  else.  That's 
trade.  Keep  a  move  on  —  don't  go  to  sleep." 

Then  presently  he  took  her  upstairs,  to  what  he  called  his 
Japan  Exhibition. 

The  Cretonne  Department  had  been  compressed  and  cur- 
tailed to  make  room  for  this  new  feature,  and  she  passed 
through  the  archway  of  an  ornate  partition  in  order  to  ad- 
mire and  wonder  at  the  Oriental  novelties. 

"  Now,  Jane,  this  is  what  I'm  really  proud  of." 

There  was  plenty  to  see  and  to  think  about  —  Marsden 
made  her  handle  carved  and  tinted  ivory  warriors  with  glit- 
tering swords  and  tiny  burnished  helmets,  dragons  with  jew- 
elled eyes  and  emamelled  jaws,  exquisite  little  cloisonne 
boxes;  made  her  stoop  to  look  at  the  malachite  plinths  of 
huge  squat  vases;  and  made  her  stretch  her  neck  to  look  at 
gold-embossed  friezes  of  great  tall  screens. 

All  these  goods  were  very  expensive ;  and  she  asked  if  any 
of  them  had  been  introduced,  like  the  Yankee  furniture,  on 
sale  or  return. 

174 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  No,  these  are  our  own  racket  —  and  tip-top  stuff,  the 
best  of  its  kind,  never  brought  to  Europe  till  last  summer. 
.  .  .  The  stock  stands  us  in  close  on  four  thousand 
pounds.  You  wouldn't  think  it,  would  you?  But  it's  art<. 
It's  an  education  to  possess  such  things." 

She  hazarded  another  question.  Did  he  think  Mailing- 
bridge  would  consent  to  pay  for  such  high-class  education? 

"  It'll  be  a  great  disappointment  to  me  if  they  don't  clear 
us  out  in  three  months  from  now.  Of  course  they  haven't 
discovered  yet  what  we're  offering  them.  But  they  will.  I 
go  on  the  double  policy  —  play  down  to  your  public  in  one 
department,  but  try  to  lift  your  public  in  another.  That's 
the  way  to  keep  alive." 

And,  as  they  left  the  Japanese  treasures  and  strolled  about 
the  upper  floor,  he  rattled  off  his  glib  catch-words. 

"  These  are  hustling  times.  Get  a  move  on  somehow. 
That's  what  I  tell  them  —  They'll  soon  tumble  to  it." 

He  parted  from  her  near  the  door  of  communication. 

"  Ta-ta,  old  girl.  .  .  .  Oh,  by  the  way,  I  shan't  be 
in  to  dinner  to-night  —  or  to-morrow  either.  I'm  off  to 

London.  I'm  wanted  there  about  my  Christmas  Baz " 

And  he  checked  himself.  "  But  I'll  ask  old  Mears  to  tell 
you  all  about  that." 

Then  he  ran  downstairs,  two  steps  at  a  time,  and  swag- 
gered here  and  there  between  the  counters  to  impress  the  as- 
sistants with  his  hustlingly  Napoleonic  air. 

Occasionally  he  loved  to  step  forward,  wave  aside  the 
assistant,  and  himself  serve  a  customer.  He  thoroughly  en- 
joyed the  awe-struck  admiration  of  the  shop  when  he  thus 
granted  it  a  display  of  his  skill.  It  was  his  only  real  gift  — 
the  salesman  art;  and  it  never  failed  him. 

But  it  was  something  that  he  could  not  impart.  Assist- 
ants who  imitated  his  method  —  trying  to  catch  the  smiling, 
almost  chaffing  manner  that  could  immediately  convert  a 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

grumpy  lethargic  critic  into  a  prompt  and  cheerful  buyer  — 
were  merely  familiar  and  impudent,  and  ended  by  huffing  the 
customer. 

And  the  governor,  when  he  happened  to  detect  want  of 
success  in  one  of  his  young  gentlemen  or  young  ladies,  came 
down  like  a  hundred  of  bricks. 

He  treated  the  two  sexes  quite  impartially,  and  the  women 
could  not  say  that  he  bullied  the  men  worse  than  he  bullied 
them.  But  he  had  a  deadly  sort  of  satire  that  the  younger 
girls  dreaded  more  than  the  angriest  storm  of  abuse.  Thus 
if  he  saw  one  of  them  sitting  down,  he  would  address  her 
with  apparently  amiable  solicitude. 

"Is  that  ledge  hard,  Miss  Vincent?  Couldn't  someone 
get  her  a  cushion?  Make  yourself  at  home.  Why  don't 
you  come  round  the  counter  and  sit  on  the  customers'  laps? 
.  .  .  We  must  find  you  a  comfortable  seat  somewhere  — 
and  change  of  air,  too.  Mallingbridge  isn't  agreeing  with 
your  constitution,  if  you  feel  as  slack  as  all  this." 

Like  the  people  of  his  house,  these  people  of  his  shop 
feared  him,  and,  perhaps  without  putting  the  thoughts  into 
words,  or  troubling  to  quote  adages,  understood  that  beg- 
gars on  horseback  always  ride  with  reckless  disregard  of  the 
safety  and  comfort  of  the  humble  companions  with  whom 
they  were  recently  tramping  along  the  hard  road,  and  that 
no  master  is  so  tyrannical  as  a  promoted  servant.  In  the 
opinion  of  the  shop-assistants,  he  could  not  go  to  London  too 
often  or  stay  there  too  long. 

While  he  was  away  this  time,  Mears  came  to  Mrs.  Mars- 
den  with  a  long  face  and  a  gloomy  voice,  and  gave  her  the 
delayed  information  as  to  her  husband's  Christmas  pro- 
gramme. 

The  new  underground  floor  was  to  be  used  for  a  grand 
Bazaar,  and  Mears  had  been  told  to  win  her  round  to  the 
idea. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mears  himself  hated  the  idea.  He  thought  the  bazaar 
a  brainless  plagiarism  of  Bence's,  and  altogether  unworthy 
of  Thompson's.  It  would  be  exactly  like  Bence's,  but  on 
a  much  larger  scale  —  beneath  the  good  respectable  shop,  a 
cheap  and  nasty  shop,  in  which  catchpenny  travesties  of  de- 
cent articles  would  be  the  only  wares ;  fancy  stationery,  sham 
jewellery,  spurious  metals;  horrid  little  clocks  that  won't 
go,  knives  and  scissors  that  won't  cut,  collar-boxes  more 
flimsy  than  the  collars  they  are  intended  to  hold  —  everything 
beastly  that  crumples,  bends,  or  breaks  before  you  can  get 
home  with  it. 

"  But  he  won't  abandon  the  idea,"  said  Mears.  "  That's 
a  certainty.  He's  mad  keen  on  it.  The  only  thing  is  for 
you  to  use  your  influence  —  and  I'll  back  you  up  solid  — 
to  persuade  him  to  modify  it." 

And  Mears  strongly  advocated  modification  on  these  lines : 
make  the  bazaar  a  fitting  annex, —  substitute  boots  and 
shoes  for  the  sixpenny  toys,  good  leather  trunks  for  the 
paper  boxes,  nice  engravings  for  the  coloured  photographs, 
—  offer  the  public  genuine  stuff  and  not  trash. 

Accordingly,  Mr.  Marsden,  as  soon  as  he  returned,  was 
begged  by  his  partner  and  his  manager  to  grant  their  joint 
petition  for  a  slightly  modified  Christmas  carnival.  But  he 
said  it  was  too  late.  They  ought  to  have  gone  into  the 
matter  earlier. 

He  had  bought  the  trash, —  had  engaged  his  London 
girls, —  was  ready ;  and  like  a  general  on  the  eve  of  campaign, 
he  could  not  be  bothered  with  advice  from  subordinate 
officers. 

When  discussing  this  horrible  innovation,  Mears  had 
extracted  from  Mrs.  Marsden  a  distinct  show  of  interest; 
several  times  afterwards  he  had  endeavoured  to  stimulate 
and  increase  the  interest;  and  now,  just  before  ChristmaSj 
he  earnestly  implored  her  to  rouse  herself. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  We  miss  you,  ma'am,  worse  every  day.  It  isn't  safe 
to  let  things  drift.  We  can't  get  on  without  you." 

Then  one  morning  she  had  an  early  breakfast,  dressed 
herself  in  her  shop  black,  came  down  behind  the  glass,  took 
her  seat  at  the  little  corner  table  of  her  old  room,  and  un- 
obtrusively began  working. 

Marsden,  when  he  came  in  two  or  three  hours  later,  was 
surprised  to  see  her. 

"  Hullo,  Jane,  what  do  you  think  you  are  doing?  " 

"  Well,  Dick,"  she  said  submissively,  "  I  should  like  to 
help  in  the  shop  —  as  I  used  to,  you  know." 

"  Bravo.  Excellent !  I  want  all  the  help  that  anyone 
can  give  me ;  "  and  he  seated  himself  in  the  chair  of  honour. 
"  But  look  here.  Don't  mess  about  with  the  papers  on 
this  desk.  I  work  after  a  system  —  and  if  my  papers  are 
muddled,  it  simply  upsets  me  and  wastes  my  time." 


XVII 

IT  had  been  a  fearful  year  for  Thompson  &  Marsden's. 
From  the  moment  that  the  grand  fascia  permanently  recorded 
the  new  style  of  the  firm,  money  had  flowed  out  of  the  busi- 
ness like  water  —  and  like  big  water,  like  mountain  torrents 
or  sea  waves ;  while  the  feeding-stream  of  money  that  flowed 
into  the  business  was  obstructed,  deflected,  and  plainly 
lessened  in  volume.  And  now,  when  all  the  immense  outlay 
should  begin  to  prove  remunerative,  even  Marsden  himself 
confessed  that  results  were  inadequate  and  unsatisfactory. 

The  Bazaar  was  a  disastrous  fiasco.  The  builders  had 
broken  their  contract;  the  basement  had  not  been  completed 
on  the  stipulated  date,  and  a  law-stfit  was  pending.  Mars- 
den  swore  that  he  would  recover  damages  for  the  loss  en- 
tailed by  his  builders'  wickedness;  but  Mr.  Prentice  advised 
that  he  had  a  weak  case. 

When,  to  the  strains  of  a  Viennese  orchestra,  the  public 
were  invited  to  go  down  and  enjoy  themselves  underground, 
they  flatly  declined  the  invitation.  A  peep  into  the  bril- 
liantly lighted  depths  was  sufficient  for  them.  Damp  exhaled 
from  the  plastered  walls;  the  few  adventurous  customers 
shivered  and  the  girls  sneezed  in  their  faces.  An  epidemic 
of  sore  throat,  engendered  down  there,  rose  and  spread 
through  the  upper  shop.  After  three  weeks,  Marsden's  grand 
Christmas  entertainment  was  withdrawn  —  like  a  pantomime 
that  is  too  stupid  to  attract  the  children;  the  regiment  of 
sneezing  girls  was  disbanded ;  the  mass  of  unsold  rubbish 
was  sent  to  London,  to  be  disposed  of  for  what  it  would 
fetch.  And  that,  as  the  whole  shop  knew,  was  half  nothing. 

179 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

The  Japanese  department  was  almost  as  bad  a  bargain; 
the  little  ivory  warriors  terrified  cautious  citizens  with  their 
high  prices;  no  one  would  come  to  buy  and  be  educated. 
But  Marsden  for  a  long  time  was  obstinate  about  his  Ori- 
ental goods.  He  would  not  face  the  loss,  and  cut  it  short. 

He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  American  office  equip- 
ments; but  this  feature  had  also  failed  to  fulfil  expectations. 
Only  three  small  articles  had  been  sold.  However,  as  there 
was  no  risk  here,  the  want  of  success  did  not  much  matter; 
but  still  it  must  be  counted  as  one  more  of  'the  governor's 
false  moves.  Indeed,  as  all  now  saw,  everything  attempted 
by  the  governor  during  this  period  of  his  energetic  efforts 
had  gone  hopelessly  wrong. 

But  he  himself  could  not  brook  the  disappointment  caused 
by  his  failures.  He  was  disgusted  when  he  thought  of  what 
had  happened  since  his  pompous  declaration  of  war.  Al- 
though he  would  not  admit  that  so  far  Bence  was  beating 
him,  he  inveighed  against  fate,  against  Mallingbridge, 
against  all  the  world. 

"  What  the  devil  can  you  do  when  you're  buried  in  a 
dead  and  alive  hole  like  this,  surrounded  by  idiotic  prejudices, 
and  dependent  on  a  lot  of  old  fossils  to  carry  out  your 
ideas?" 

The  fitful  energy  that  had  occasioned  so  much  trouble 
was  now  quite  exhausted.  He  seemed  to  have  entered  an- 
other phase.  He  was  never  jolly  now,  but  always  discon- 
tented, and  generally  querulous,  morose,  or  violently  angry. 

One  after  another  the  old  shop  chieftains  succumbed 
beneath  his  bullying  attacks.  Mr.  Ridgway  and  Mr. 
.Fentiman  had  gone.  Mr.  Greig  was  going. 

Mrs.  Marsden  always  recognized  the  beginning  of  his 
onslaught  upon  anybody  to  whom  in  the  old  days  she  had 
been  strongly  attached.  A  few  sneering  words  —  lightly 
and  .carelessly,;  and  then,  when  he  returned  to  .the  charge, 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

gross  abuse  of  the  doomed  thing.  She  knew  that  it  was 
doomed.  In  the  wreck  of  her  life  this  too  must  go.  Then 
very  soon  there  were  insults  and  violences  that  rendered  the 
position  of  the  victim  untenable,  unendurable.  Thus  he  had 
forced  Mr.  Ridgway  and  the  others  to  resign. 

Yates,  the  servant  and  friend  that  she  loved,  was  also 
doomed.  She  was  struggling  to  avert  the  stroke  of  doom, 
but  she  knew  that  sooner  or  later  it  must  fall. 

And  during  all  this  time  his  demands  for  cash  were  in- 
creasingly frequent.  By  his  colossal  outlay  he  had  mort- 
gaged the  profits  of  years,  and  it  was  essential  that  the 
partners  should  wait  patiently  until  they  came  into  their  own 
again.  But  he  would  not  wait,  and  vowed  that  he  could  not 
further  retrench  his  personal  expenses.  How  was  he  to  live 
without  some  ready  cash  ?  And  if  the  firm  could  not  furnish 
it,  she  must. 

"  I  am  trying  to  sell  my  big  car,"  he  told  her.  "  And  I 
suppose  you  will  ask  me  to  sell  the  little  one  next  —  and 
paddle  about  in  the  mud  again.  But,  no,  thank  you,  that 
doesn't  suit  my  book  at  all." 

At  last  she  summoned  to  her  aid  something  of  that  old 
resolution  that  seemed  to  have  left  her  forever,  and  refused 
to  comply  with  his  request. 

"  No,  Dick,  I  can't.     It  isn't  fair.     I  can't." 

"  You  mean,  you  wont!' 

"  Well,  if  you  force  me  to  use  that  word,  I  shall  use  it." 

Then  there  was  a  terrible  quarrel  —  or  rather  he  abused 
her  meanness  and  selfishness  with  brutal  violence,  and  she 
protested  against  his  injustice  and  cruelty  with  all  the 
strength  that  she  possessed. 

After  this  he  absented  himself  for  a  fortnight.  He  sent 
no  messages;  he  left  the  business  to  take  care  of  itself,  or  be 
run  by  the  other  partner ;  nobody  knew  where  he  was. 

When  he  reappeared  he  showed  a  perceptible  deterio- 

181 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

ration  of  aspect,  as  if  the  vicious  orgies  through  which  prob- 
ably he  had  been  passing  had  set  their  ugly  print  upon  his 
mouth,  and  had  tarnished  the  healthy  brightness  of  his  eyes. 
Henceforth  the  evidences  of  his  increasing  dissipation  be- 
came more  and  more  obvious.  He  had  abandoned  himself  to 
the  influences  of  this  second  phase.  He  drank  heavily.  He 
was  careless  about  his  clothes;  never  looked  spick  and  span 
and  well-groomed;  often  looked  quite  seedy  and  shabby, 
lounging  in  and  out  of  the  Dolphin  Hotel,  with  cheeks 
unshaven,  and  an  unbrushed  pot  hat  on  the  back  of  his 
head. 

But  although  he  neglected  his  work,  he  made  people  un- 
derstand that  he  still  considered  himself  the  boss,  and  when- 
ever he  came  into  the  shop  he  asserted  his  authority.  After 
lying  in  bed  sometimes  till  late  in  the  afternoon,  he  would 
come  down  and  upset  everybody  just  when  the  day's  work 
was  drawing  to  a  close. 

At  the  sight  of  him  all  eyes  were  lowered,  and  many 
hands  began  to  tremble  behind  the  counters.  Before  he  had 
progressed  from  the  door  of  communication  to  the  top  of  the 
staircase,  somebody,  it  was  certain,  would  be  dropped  on. 
But  on  whom  would  he  drop  ? 

Once  it  was  his  ancient  admirer  and  ally,  Miss  Woolfrey. 
Outside  China  &  Glass,  she  spoke  to  him  pleasantly  if 
nervously. 

"  Good  evening,  sir.  You'll  find  Mrs.  Thompson  down- 
stairs in  the  ofHce." 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you  talking  about?  " 

"  Mrs.  Thompson,  sir  —  Oh,  lor,  how  silly  of  me ! 
Mrs.  Marsden,  sir." 

"Yes,  that's  the  name;  and  I'll  be  obliged  if  you  won't 
forget  it."  He  was  always  exceedingly  angry  if,  as  still 
often  happened,  the  old  assistants  accidentally  used  the  name 
that  from  long  habit  sprang  so  easily  to  their  lips. 

182 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Mrs.  Marsden,  if  you  please.  And  not  too  much  of  that." 
He  looked  about  him  wrathfully,  involving  half  the  upper 
floor  in  his  displeasure.  "  I  wish  you'd  all  learnt  manners 
before  you  got  yourselves  taken  on  here.  *  Yes,  Mrs.  Mars- 
den.  No,  Mrs.  Marsden ' —  that's  the  way  I  hear  you. 
Don't  any  of  you  know  that  Madam  is  the  proper  form  of 
address  when  you're  speaking  to  your  employer's  wife?  " 

When  he  went  behind  the  glass  all  the  clerks  began  to 
blunder  and  to  get  confused.  He  called  for  day-books, 
ledgers,  and  cash-books,  and  glanced  at  them  with  lordly 
superciliousness  while  the  poor  clerks  humbly  held  them  open 
before  him.  Nothing  was  ever  quite  right  —  he  blamed 
somebody  for  illegible  hand-writing,  someone  else  for  a  blot, 
someone  else  for  the  dog's  ear  of  a  page. 

As  promised  by  Miss  Woolfrey,  he  found  the  late  Mrs. 
Thompson  quietly  working  at  the  little  corner  table  in  his 
room.  Then  he  stood  before  the  fire  warming  his  legs,  and 
haranguing  about  shop-etiquette,  up-to-date  methods,  time- 
saving  systems,  and  complaining  of  the  many  faults  that  he 
had  discovered. 

His  wife  listened  without  discontinuing  the  work. 

Gradually,  in  spite  of  all  his  dictatorial  interferences,  he 
was  allowing  her  to  do  more  and  more  work.  He  told  the 
heads  of  the  staff  that  when  he  was  out  of  the  way,  they 
were  to  take  their  instructions  from  Mrs.  Marsden.  Then, 
when  underlings  came  to  him,  obsequiously  asking  for  his 
orders  in  regard  to  small  matters,  he  said  he  could  not  be 
worried  about  trifles.  Mrs.  Marsden  would  direct  them. 
He  had  more  than  enough  important  things  to  think  of,  and 
could  not  descend  to  petty  details. 

One  afternoon  he  came  in  from  the  street,  turned  the 
type-writing  girl  out  of  the  room,  and  told  his  wife  to  give 
him  all  her  attention. 

"Attend  to  me,  old  girl.     News.     Great  news." 

183 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

He  slapped  his  legs,  and  laughed.  He  was  elated  and 
excited.  It  was  a  flash  of  jollity  after  months  of  gloom. 

"  Do  you  remember  what  I  told  you  eighteen  months 
ago?" 

"  What  did  you  tell  me,  Dick?  " 

"  I  asked  you  to  mark  my  words  —  and  I  said,  that  little 
bounder  over  there  wasn't  going  to  last  much  longer." 

The  old  story  of  Bence's  approaching  bankruptcy  had  been 
revived  again.  Marsden  had  heard  it  once  more,  at  the  Dol- 
phin bar  or  in  the  Conservative  Club  billiard  room,  and  he 
greedily  swallowed  every  word  of  it. 

He  said  it  was  a  hard-boiled  fact  this  time.  One  of  the 
profligate  brothers  had  died ;  the  widow  was  taking  his  money 
out  of  the  business;  and  Archibald  Bence,  deprived  of 
capital  without  which  he  could  not  scrape  along,  would  go 
phutt  at  any  minute. 

"  There,  old  girl,  I  thought  it  would  buck  you  up  to  hear 
such  news,  so  I  ran  in  to  tell  you.  But  now  I  must  be  off." 

And  then,  in  his  unusual  good  temper,  he  noticed  the  dif- 
ficulties under  which  she  was  labouring. 

"  I  say,  you  don't  seem  very  comfortable  with  all  your 
papers  spread  out  on  chairs  like  that.  It  looks  so  infernally 
messy  —  but  I  suppose  you  haven't  space  for  them  on  your 
table." 

"  I  could  do  with  more  space,  certainly." 

"  Very  well.  You  can  sit  at  my  desk  —  when  I  am  not 
here.  But  don't  fiddle  about  with  anything  in  the 
drawers ;  "  and  he  laughed.  "  You'd  better  not  pry  among 
my  papers,  or  you  may  get  your  fingers  snapped  off.  The 
whole  damned  thing  shut  up  with  a  bang  when  I  was  looking 
for  something  in  a  hurry  the  other  day." 

She  wondered  if  there  could  be  any  valid  reason  for  the 
persistent  recurrence  of  these  stories  of  financial  shakiness 
behind  their  rival's  outward  show  of  prosperity.  Were 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

these  little  puffs  of  smoke,  appearing  and  disappearing  so 
frequently,  indicative  of  latent  fire?  She  asked  Mr.  Mears 
what  he  thought  about  the  gossip  carried  in  such  triumph 
by  her  credulous  husband. 

Mears  did  not  believe  a  word  of  it. 

"  We've  heard  such  yarns  for  ten  years,  haven't  we  ?  " 
And  Mears  nodded  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  street. 
"  I've  used  my  eyes,  and  I  don't  see  any  signs  of  it  —  and  I 
think  Mr.  Marsden  shouldn't  reckon  on  it." 

"  No,  I  quite  agree  with  you." 

"  Although,"  said  Mears,  "  it  would  be  very  convenient 
to  us,  if  it  did  happen  —  and  if  it  is  going  to  happen,  the 
sooner  it  happens  the  better." 

"  It  won't  happen,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  sadly  and  wearily. 
"  The  wish  is  father  to  the  thought  —  there's  no  real  sense 
in  it." 

At  this  time  she  often  thought  of  Archibald  Bence;  and 
of  how,  when  alluding  to  his  idle  spendthrift  brothers,  he 
used  to  say  with  quaintly  candid  self-pity,  "  There's  a  leak 
in  my  shop." 

Well,  there  was  a  leak  on  each  side  of  the  street,  now. 

Availing  herself  of  her  husband's  permission,  she  came 
out  of  the  corner,  and  was  generally  to  be  seen  seated  in  the 
chair  of  honour  at  the  tricky  American  desk. 

Little  by  little  she  was  resuming  control  over  the  ordinary 
routine  management  of  the  shop ;  and,  although  in  its  greater 
and  more  momentous  affairs  she  remained  practically  im- 
potent, she  was  allowed  full  opportunities  to  supervise  and 
encourage  its  daily  traffic. 

Once  or  twice  as  Mears  stood  by  her  chair  in  the  office 
and  watched  her  knitted  brows  while  she  considered  the 
questions  of  the  hour,  he  thought  and  felt  that  it  was  quite 
like  old  times. 

But  this  was  a  transient  thought.     Old  times  could  never 

185 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

really  come  again.  Stooping  to  take  the  papers  on  which 
she  had  scrawled  her  brief  and  rapid  directions,  he  noticed 
the  coarse  grey  strands  in  the  hair  that  such  a  little  while 
ago  used  to  be  so  smooth,  so  glossy,  and  to  his  mind  so 
pretty.  He  could  see,  too,  the  differences  in  her  whole  face. 
The  face  was  slightly  smaller ;  the  florid  colours  were  fading 
so  fast  that  occasionally  she  seemed  sallow;  the  lines  of  the 
kind  mouth  had  grown  harder;  and  there  was  a  curious, 
passive,  subdued  look  where  once  there  had  been  outpouring 
vitality.  And  the  bodice  of  the  black  dress  hung  loose,  in 
small  folds  and  creases,  on  the  shoulders  that  used  to  fill  it 
with  such  handsome  thoroughness. 

But  instinctively  Mears  understood  that  behind  the  nar- 
rower and  less  glowing  mask  the  inward  force  was  not  ex- 
tinguished—  the  indomitable  spirit  was  there  still,  not  yet 
quenched,  and  perhaps  unquenchable. 

He  watched  her  —  with  a  veneration  deeper  than  he  had 
ever  felt  in  the  easy  prosperous  past  —  while  she  went  on 
quietly,  bravely  working,  day  by  day,  week  after  week. 


One  Saturday  evening,  after  an  uneventful  but  laborious 
week,  when  she  had  supped  alone  and  was  reading  by  the 
dining-room  fire,  Marsden  came  in  and  abruptly  asked  her 
for  money. 

"  This  is  serious,  Jane  —  no  rot  about  it.  I'm  stuck 
for  a  couple  of  hundred,  and  I  must  have  it." 

"Really,  Dick,  I  cannot—" 

"  I  don't  ask  it  as  a  gift.  Of  course  I  meant  to  pay  you 
back  the  other  advances,  but  everything's  been  against  me. 
I  will  try  to  pay  you.  Anyhow,  this  is  a  bona  fide  loan. 
It's  only  to  tide  me  over." 

"  But  you  said  that  last  time." 

"  Last  time  you  refused  —  and  I  had  to  chuck  away  my 

1 86 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

little  run-about  —  simply  chuck  it  away.  And  I  wanted  to 
keep  that  car  as  much  for  your  sake  as  for  mine.  I  knew 
you  enjoyed  a  ride  in  it." 

She  had  ridden  in  the  car  once,  and  once  only. 

"  Look  here,  old  girl."  And  he  removed  his  hat,  and  sat 
down  on  the  other  side  of  the  dinner-table.  Perhaps  he  had 
hoped  that  she  would  give  him  a  cheque  and  let  him  go  out 
again  in  two  or  three  minutes ;  but  now  he  saw  it  would  take 
longer.  "I  must  have  the  money  by  Monday  morning  — 
or  I  shall  be  in  a  devil  of  a  hole.  More  or  less  a  matter  of 
honour.  .  .  .  Don't  be  nasty.  Help  a  pal.  It's  not 
like  you  to  refuse  —  when  I  tell  you  I'm  in  earnest." 

"  But,  Dick,  I  am  in  earnest,  too.     Truly  I  can't  do  it." 

"  Rot.  You  can  do  it  without  feeling  it."  And  he  as- 
sumed a  facetious  air.  "Just  your  autograph  —  that's  all 
I  ask  for.  I'll  write  out  the  cheque  myself  —  save  you  all 
trouble.  Just  sign  your  name." 

"  No,  I'm  very  sorry;  but  it's  impossible." 

He  got  up,  and  began  to  walk  about  the  room,  fuming 
angrily. 

"  Then  I  shall  draw  on  the  firm." 

"  Then  I  shall  have  to  call  in  Mr.  Prentice,  and  ask  him 
to  protect  the  firm  —  to  go  to  the  law  courts  if  necessary." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  my  aunt.  I've  had  enough  of  Mr.  Pren- 
tice—  Mr.  Prentice  isn't  my  wet  nurse." 

"  Dick,  be  reasonable.  Be  kind  to  me.  Don't  you  see, 
yourself,  that — " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  have  you  and  old  Prentice  treating  me 
as  if  I  was  a  baby  in  arms  —  lecturing,  and  preaching  to  me 
about  the  firm.  You  and  Prentice  aren't  the  firm.  I'm  just 
as  much  the  firm  as  you  are." 

"Have  I  put  myself  forward?  Do  I  ever  deny  your 
rights?" 

"  Be  damned  to  Prentice."  He  took  his  hands  out  of  his 
13  187 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

overcoat  pockets,  and  brandished  them  furiously.  "  Prentice 
was  my  enemy  from  the  very  beginning;  "  and  he  raised  his 
voice.  It  seemed  as  if  he  was  purposely  working  himself 
into  a  passion.  "  I  was  a  fool  to  submit  to  his  bounce.  I 
ought  to  have  had  a  marriage  settlement  —  money  properly 
settled  on  me  —  and  I  was  a  fool  to  let  him  jew  me  out 
of  it." 

"  I  gave  you  a  half  share." 

"  Yes,  in  the  business  —  but  only  the  business." 

"  Wasn't  that  enough  for  you?  " 

"  Yes,  in  good  times,  no  doubt.  But  what  about  bad 
times?  And  what  the  devil  did  I  know  of  the  business  be- 
fore I  came  into  it  ?  Nothing  was  explained  to  me.  I  came 
in  blindfold.  I  took  everything  on  trust." 

"  Oh,  I  think  you  understood  it  was  a  paying  concern." 

"  It  wasn't  proved  to  me,  anyhow.  No  one  took  the 
trouble  to  let  me  see  the  books  —  and  give  me  the  plain 
figures.  Oh,  no,  that  would  have  been  beneath  your 
dignity." 

"  Or  beneath  yours,  Dick?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  was  a  fool  to  consider  my  dignity.  That 
was  old  Prentice  again.  I  suppose  he  took  his  cue  from  you. 
You  had  put  your  heads  together,  and  decided  that  I  was  to 
behave  like  the  good  boy  in  the  copy-books.  Open  your 
mouth  and  shut  your  eyes,  and  see  what  God  will  send  you." 

"  Dick,  please  —  please  don't  go  on." 

Suddenly  he  stopped  walking  about,  leaned  his  hands  on 
the  table,  and  stared  across  at  her. 

"  Suppose  the  entire  business  goes  to  pot.     What  then  ?  " 

"  The  business  will  recover,  and  continue  —  if  it  isn't 
drained  to  death." 

"  Yes,  but  it's  all  mighty  fine  for  you.  You  can  afford 
to  take  a  lofty  tone.  Fat  years  are  followed  by  lean  years  — 
We  must  wait  for  the  fat  years  again.  I  know  all  that  cut 

188 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

and  dried  cackle  —  it's  the  way  people  of  property  always 
talk.  I  came  in  with  nothing  —  please  to  remember  that. 
I'm  absolutely  dependent  on  the  business  —  if  the  profits  go 
down  to  nothing,  am  I  to  starve?  " 

"You  shan't  starve;  "  and  she  looked  round  the  comfort- 
able, well-furnished  room. 

"You  had  your  private  fortune  —  all  that  you'd  put  by, 
—  and  I  suppose  you  have  got  all  of  it  still." 

"  How  can  I  have  it  all  —  when  you  know  what  I  gave  to 
Enid?" 

"  You  gave  Enid  a  dashed  sight  too  much  —  but  you  had 
plenty  left,  in  spite  of  that." 

"  Dick,  on  my  honour,  I  hadn't  a  large  amount  left.  I 
used  to  count  myself  a  rich  woman,  but  I  was  only  relying 
on  the  business.  What  I  took  out  one  year  I  put  back  into 
it  another  year.  I  was  always  trying  to  improve  it." 

"  I'll  swear  you  haven't  put  any  back  since  you  married 
me." 

"  No,  I  haven't." 

"  No,  that  I'll  swear."  He  had  lowered  his  voice,  and 
he  was  speaking  with  a  scornful  intensity.  "  No,  good 
times  or  bad  times  in  the  shop,  you  are  content  to  pouch 
your  dividends  from  all  your  stocks  and  shares,  and  sit 
watching  your  nest-egg  grow  bigger  and  bigger,  while  — " 

"Dick!     You  are  tiring  me  out.     Don't  go  on." 

"  Yes,  I  will  go  on.  You  started  it  —  and  now  I  mean 
to  get  to  the  bottom  of  things.  Let's  get  to  plain  figures  at 
last.  What  are  you  worth  now  —  of  your  very  own  — 
apart  from  the  firm  ?  " 

"  Not  one  penny  more  than  I  need  —  for  my  own 
safety." 

"  Ha-ha!     You're  afraid  to  tell  me." 

"  Why  should  I  tell  you  ?  Dick,  don't  go  on.  It's  cruel 
of  you  to  bully  me  —  when  I'm  so  tired." 

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MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Twenty  thousand?  Thirty  thousand?  How  much? 
Oh,  I  dare  say  I  can  figure  it  out  for  myself  —  without  your 
help.  Say  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  coming  in  like 
clockwork.  Why  I  saved  you  two-fifty  a  year  myself,  by 
cutting  down  wrhat  you  intended  to  settle  on  Enid  and  that 
skinny  rascal  of  a  horse-coper." 

"  Dick—  for  pity's  sake—" 

"  Then  answer  me."  And  he  raised  his  voice  louder  than 
before.  "  What  are  you  doing  with  your  private  income  ?  " 

"  This  house  costs  something" 

"  Oh,  this  house  can't  stand  you  in  much.  Where  does  the 
rest  go  —  if  you  aren't  saving  it?  Are  you  giving  it  to 
Enid?  .  .  .  That's  it,  I  suppose.  If  that  lazy  swine 
wants  two  hundred  to  buy  himself  another  thoroughbred 
hunter,  I  suppose  he  sends  Enid  sneaking  over  here  —  when 
my  back's  turned  —  and  just  taps  you  for  it.  You  don't 
refuse  him.  But  if  /  come  to  you,  it's  '  No,  certainly  not. 
Do  you  want  to  ruin  me  ?  ' ' 

"Dick!" 

"  Then,  will  you  let  me  have  it  ?  " 

Her  face  was  drawn  and  haggard ;  she  looked  at  him  with 
piteous,  imploring  eyes;  and  she  hesitated.  But  the  hesita- 
tion was  caused  by  dread  of  his  wrath,  and  not  by  doubt  as 
to  her  reply. 

"  Dick.     I  am  sorry.     But  I  cannot  do  it." 

"  Is  that  your  answer?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  my  answer." 

"Very  good."  He  snatched  up  his  hat,  clapped  it  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  and  stood  for  a  few  moments  staring 
at  her  vindictively.  Then,  clenching  his  fist  and  striking 
the  table,  he  burst  into  a  storm  of  abuse. 

.  .  .  "  But  you'll  be  sorry  for  this,  my  grand  lady. 
I'll  make  you  pay  for  it  before  I've  done  with  you."  This 
was  after  he  had  been  raving  at  her  for  a  couple  of  minutes, 

190 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

and  his  voice  had  become  hoarse.  "  You'll  learn  better  —  or 
I'll  know  the  reason  why." 

Then  he  turned,  flung  open  the  door,  and  stamped  out  of 
the  room. 

"What  do  you  want  here  —  you  prying  old  hag?  Stand 
on  one  side,  unless  you  wish  me  to  pitch  you  down  the  stairs." 

Outside  on  the  landing  he  had  found  Yates  hastily  mov- 
ing away  from  the  dining-room  door.  Terrified  by  the  noise, 
she  had  been  irresistibly  drawn  towards  the  room  where 
her  mistress  was  suffering.  She  longed  to  aid,  but  did  not 
dare. 

She  came  into  the  room  now,  and  saw  Mrs.  Marsden 
leaning  back  in  her  chair,  white  and  nearly  breathless,  look- 
ing half  dead. 

"  Oh,  ma'am  —  oh,  ma'am!     Whatever  are  we  to  do?" 

"It's  all  right,  Yates.  Don't  distress  yourself.  It's 
nothing.  .  .  .  Mr.  Marsden  lost  his  temper  for  the 
moment  —  but  I  assure  you,  it's  all  right." 

"  Let  me  get  you  upstairs  to  bed." 

"  No,  leave  me  alone,  please.  I  am  quite  all  right  — 
but  I'll  stay  here  quietly  for  a  little  while.  .  .  .  Go  to 
bed,  yourself.  Don't  sit  up  for  me." 

And  her  mistress  was  so  firm  that  Yates  felt  reluctantly 
compelled  to  obey  orders. 

An  hour  passed;  and  Mrs.  Marsden  still  sat  before  the 
fire,  alone  with  her  thoughts  in  the  silent  house.  And  then 
a  totally  unexpected  sound  startled  her.  The  front  door  had 
been  opened  and  shut ;  there  were  footsteps  on  the  stairs :  the 
master  of  the  house  had  returned,  to  resume  the  conversation. 

But  to  resume  it  in  a  very  different  tone. —  He  took  off 
his  hat  and  coat,  came  to  the  fire,  warmed  his  hands;  and 
then,  resting  an  elbow  on  the  mantelpiece,  smilingly  looked 
down  at  his  wife. 

"Jane,  I'm  penitent.  .  .  .  Really  and  truly,  I'm 

191 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

ashamed  of  myself  for  letting  fly  at  you  just  now.  But  you 
did  rile  me  awfully  by  saying  you  hadn't  got  the  money. 
Anyhow,  I've  come  back  to  ask  for  pardon." 

"Or  have  you  come  back  to  ask  for  the  money  again?" 

"  No,  no.  Wash  that  out.  If  you  don't  want  to  part, 
there's  no  more  to  be  said.  Forget  all  about  it.  Wash  it 
all  out.  The  word  is,  As  you  were  —  eh?  .  .  .  Old 
Girl?" 

He  was  leaning  down  towards  her,  putting  out  his  hand; 
and  she  was  shrinking  away  from  him,  watching  him  with 
terror  in  her  eyes.  Before  the  hand  could  touch  her  face, 
she  sprang  from  the  chair  and  threw  it  over,  to  make  a 
barrier  against  his  movement. 

"Janey!  What's  the  matter  with  you?  You  naughty 
girl —  I've  apologised,  haven't  I?  Let  bygones  be  by- 
gones—  won't  you?  " 

She  had  run  round  the  table,  and  was  standing  where 
he  had  stood  an  hour  ago.  As  he  advanced  she  dodged  away 
from  him,  keeping  the  length  or  the  breadth  of  the  table  be- 
tween them. 

"Janey?  What  are  you  playing  at?  Hide  and  Seek  — 
Catch  who,  Catch  can  ?  How  silly  you  are !  " 

"  Then  stop.     Don't  touch  me." 

"  Well,  I  never !  "  He  had  stopped,  and  he  laughed 
gaily.  "  What  next  ?  This  is  a  funny  way  to  treat  your 
lord  and  master.  Janey,  dear,  you  are  forgetting  your 
duties.  You're  very,  very  naughty." 

He  laughed  again,  and  joined  his  hands  in  an  attitude  of 
devotion. 

"  There,  I'm  praying  to  you  —  like  a  repulsed  sweetheart, 
and  not  like  a  husband  who  is  being  set  at  defiance.  Dicky 
prays  you  to  make  it  up.  Janey,  be  nice  —  be  good.  .  .  . 
Dear  old  Janey  —  don't  you  know  what  this  means?  " 

"  Yes  —  it  means  that  you  want  the  money  very  badly." 

192 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Her  face,  that  till  now  was  so  white,  had  flushed  to  a 
bright  crimson. 

"  What  a  horrid  thing  to  say!  I'd  forgotten  all  about  the 
money.  Why  can't  you  forget  it?  .  .  .  No,  hang  the 
money.  Money  isn't  everything.  .  .  .  But,  Jane,  I've 
been  thinking  —  for  a  long  time  —  about  the  way  you  and 
I  are  going  on  together."  And  he  changed  his  tone  again, 
and  spoke  with  affected  solemnity.  "  It  isn't  right,  you 
know.  It  has  been  going  on  a  good  deal  too  long,  Janey  — 
and  it's  just  how  real  estrangements  begin.  ...  I  don't 
know  which  of  us  is  to  blame  —  but  I  want  to  get  back 
into  our  jolly  old  ways." 

"  That's  impossible.     We  can  never  get  back." 

"  Oh,  rot,  my  dear.  Skittles  to  that.  When  we  used  to 
have  a  tiff  —  well,  we  always  made  it  up  soon.  It  was  like 
a  lovers'  squabble,  and  it  only  made  us  fonder  of  each  other. 
.  .  .  Janey,  I  want  to  make  it  up." 

And  with  outstretched  arms  he  advanced  a  step  or  two, 
pausing  as  she  retreated. 

"  Oh,  Janey  —  how  can  you  ?  " 

Then  he  brought  out  all  the  old  seductions  —  the  half- 
closed  eyes,  from  which  the  simulated  light  of  love  was 
glittering;  the  half-opened  lips,  that  trembled  with  a  mimic 
passion ;  the  soft  caressing  tones,  made  to  vibrate  with  echoes 
of  a  feigned  desire.  To  her  it  was  all  horrible  —  the  most 
miserable  of  failures,  an  effort  to  charm  that  merely  pro- 
duces disgust.  But  he  never  was  able  to  read  her  thoughts. 
He  acted  his  little  comedy  to  the  end  —  like  the  cockbird 
who  has  started  his  amatorv  dance  to  fascinate  the  timid  hen, 
he  was  perhaps  too  busy  to  observe  results  till  the  dance  had 
finished. 

"  Dick  —  I  implore  you.     Stop  this  hideous  pretence." 

Then  he  saw  how  entirely  he  had  failed. 

"  All  that  is  done  with  forever."  Her  face  had  become 
193 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

livid;  she  shivered,  and  her  mouth  twitched,  as  if  a  wave  of 
nausea  had  come  sweeping  upward  to  her  brain.  "  On  my 
side  it  is  dead  —  utterly  dead ;  "  and  she  struck  her  breast 
with  a  closed  hand.  "  On  your  side  it  never  existed. 
.  .  .  So  don't  —  don't  think  I  can  ever  be  deceived 
again."  And  she  spoke  with  a  concentrated  force  that  com- 
pletely staggered  him.  "If  you  didn't  understand  it  —  if 
you  attempted  to  compel  me,  I  believe  —  before  God  — 
that  I  should  go  out  and  buy  a  revolver,  and  kill  myself  — 
or  kill  you." 

"  I  say.     Steady." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turned  away.  Before  he 
spoke  again,  he  had  picked  up  the  overturned  chair  and 
seated  himself  by  the  fire. 

"Very  well,  Jane.     I  twig;"  and  he  laughed  languidly. 

"I'm  not  such  a  cad  as  to  make  love  to  a  lady  against 
her  will.  I'm  all  obedience.  The  next  overture  must  come 
from  you." 

She  could  read  his  thoughts  always,  though  he  could  never 
read  hers.  Moreover,  he  had  ceased  to  act,  and  perhaps 
made  no  attempt  to  conceal  the  sense  of  relief  that  sounded 
with  such  a  brutal  plainness. 

"  But  we  can  be  friends,  Dick  —  if  you  don't  make  it  im- 
possible. There  must  be  shreds  of  our  self-respect  left.  We 
can  patch  them  together  —  if  you  don't  tear  them  into 
smaller  pieces." 

"  Oh,  you're  having  it  all  your  own  way  now." 

"  I'm  bound  to  you ;  and  I  won't  rebel  —  unless  you  drive 
me  to  despair.  I'm  your  wife  still."  As  she  said  it,  a  sob 
choked  the  last  words,  and  tears  suddenly  filled  her  eyes. 
"  I'm  your  wife  still.  I'll  carry  the  chain  —  until  you  con- 
sent to  break  it." 

"  By  Jove,  you  are  on  the  high  rope  to-night." 
"  Now,  about  this  money?  "     And  she  wiped  her  eyes,  and 

194 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

blew  her  nose.  "  You've  proved  to  me  that  you  must  have 
it.  You've  shown  that  you  wouldn't  shrink  from  any  — 
from  any  ordeal  in  order  to  get  it." 

He  looked  round  with  reawakened  interest. 

"  I  do  want  it  most  damnably,  or  of  course  I  wouldn't 
have  asked  you  for  it." 

"  Then  for  this  once  I  suppose  I  must  give  it  to  you." 

"  Jane!     Do  you  really  mean  it?  " 

"  Yes.  I'll  give  it  you,  if  you'll  tell  me  that  you  under- 
stand —  if  you'll  promise  that  this  shall  be  the  very  last 
time.  .  .  .  But  with  or  without  the  promise,  it  will  be 
useless  to  apply  to  me  again." 

"  There's  my  hand  on  it." 

He  promised  freely  and  readily. 


XVIII 

NEXT  day  she  was  too  tired  to  get  up  for  the  morning 
service,  but  she  went  to  St.  Saviour's  church  in  the  evening. 

More  and  more  she  loved  the  quiet  hours  spent  in  church. 
Here,  and  only  here,  she  was  safely  shut  up  in  the  world  of 
her  own  thoughts,  and  could  feel  certain  that  the  thread  of 
ideas  would  not  be  snapped  by  a  rough  voice,  or  her  nerves 
be  shaken  by  the  unanticipated  violence  of  some  fresh  mis- 
fortune. And  St.  Saviour's  was  even  more  restful  at  night 
than  in  the  daytime. 

She  listened  automatically  to  the  beautiful  opening  prayer ; 
and  then  she  retired  deep  into  herself. 

Except  for  the  chancel,  the  building  was  dimly  lighted. 
The  roof  and  the  empty  galleries  were  almost  hidden  by 
shadows;  lamps  reflected  themselves  feebly  from  the  dark 
wood-work;  and  the  people,  sitting  wide  apart  from  one  an- 
other in  the  sparsely  occupied  pews,  seemed  vague  black 
figures  and  not  strong  living  men  and  women. 

Each  time  that  she  rose,  she  looked  from  the  semi-dark- 
ness towards  the  brilliant  light  of  the  chancel  —  at  the 
white  surplices  and  the  shining  faces  of  the  choir,  the  golden 
tubes  of  the  organ,  and  the  soft  radiance  that  flashed  from  the 
brass  of  the  altar  rails.  But  all  the  while,  whether  she  sat 
down  or  stood  up,  her  thoughts  were  struggling  in  darkness 
and  vainly  seeking  for  the  faintest  glimmer  of  light. 

She  thought  of  her  husband  and  of  the  shop.  He  was 
holding  her,  would  hold  her  as  a  tied  and  gagged  prisoner 
surrounded  with  the  dark  chaos  that  he  had  caused.  How 
could  she  save  herself  —  or  him?  He  concealed  facts  from 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

her;  he  told  her  lies;  he  never  let  her  hear  of  a  difficulty 
until  it  was  too  late  to  find  any  means  of  escape. 

And  she  thought  of  the  destruction  of  her  whole  life- 
work.  She  saw  it  certainly  approaching  —  the  only  possible 
end  to  such  a  partnership.  All  that  she  had  laboriously  con- 
structed was  to  be  stupidly  beaten  down. 

The  splendid  old  business  would  infallibly  be  ruined.  No 
business,  however  firmly  established,  can  withstand  the 
double  attack  of  gross  mismanagement  and  reckless  depletion 
of  its  funds.  As  she  thought  of  it,  those  words  of  her  in- 
veterately  active  rival  echoed  and  re-echoed.  A  leak,  and 
no  chance  of  stopping  the  leak  —  disaster  foreseen,  but  not 
to  be  averted.  The  leak  was  too  great.  All  hands  at  the 
pumps  would  not  save  the  ship. 

A  new  and  if  possible  more  poignant  bitterness  filled  her 
mind.  It  was  another  long-drawn  agony  that  lay  before 
her ;  and  it  seemed  to  her,  looking  back  at  the  older  pain,  that 
this  was  almost  worse.  Confusion,  entanglement,  darkness 
—  no  light,  no  hope,  no  chance  of  opening  the  track  that 
leads  from  chaos  to  security.  Bitter,  oh,  most  bitter  —  to 
taste  the  failure  one  has  not  deserved,  to  work  wisely  and  be 
frustrated  by  folly,  to  watch  passively  while  all  that  one  has 
created  and  believed  to  be  permanent  is  slowly  demolished 
and  obliterated. 

Quite  automatically,  she  had  stood  up  again,  and  was 
looking  towards  the  brightly  illuminated  choir.  They  were 
singing  the  appointed  psalms  now;  and,  as  half  consciously 
she  listened  to  each  chanted  verse,  the  words  wove  themselves 
into  the  burden  of  her  thoughts. 

.     .     .     "  They  have  compassed  me  about  also 

.     .     .     and  fought  against  me  without  cause." 

Altogether  without  cause.  There  was  the  pity  of  it.  If 
only  he  would  curb  his  insensate  greed,  put  some  check  or 
limit  to  his  excesses,  the  business  would  soon  recover  from 

197 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

the  shaking  he  had  given  it ;  and  then  there  would  be  enough 
to  maintain  him  in  idleness  for  the  rest  of  his  days.  She 
would  work  for  him,  if  he  would  but  let  her. 

.  .  .  "  For  the  love  that  I  had  unto  them,  lo,  they 
take  now  my  contrary  part." 

Yes,  in  all  things  he  would  frustrate  her  efforts. 

.  .  .  "  Thus  have  they  rewarded  me  evil  for  good ;  and 
hatred  for  my  good  will." 

The  good  will !  How  much  value  had  he  knocked  off  the 
good  will  already?  If  they  tried  to  turn  themselves  into  a 
company  to-morrow,  what  price  could  they  put  down  for  it? 
Soon  there  would  be  no  good  will  left. 

"  Set  thou  an  ungodly  man  to  be  ruler  over  him ;  and  let 
Satan  stand  at  his  right  hand." 

Ah!  There  spoke  the  implacable  voice  of  the  Hebrew 
king.  No  mercy  for  the  ungodly. 

"  When  sentence  is  given  upon  him,  let  him  be  condemned, 
and  let  his  prayer  be  turned  into  sin." 

Ah!     There  again. 

"  Let  his  days  be  few ;  and  let  another  take  his  office." 

She  listened  now  fully,  as  the  verses  of  condemnation 
followed  one  another  in  a  dreadful  sequence.  That  was  the 
spirit  of  the  Old  Testament.  The  God  of  those  days  was 
anthropomorphic,  a  god  of  battles,  a  leader,  a  fighter:  the 
friend  of  our  friends,  but  the  foe  to  our  foes.  He  taught 
one  to  fight  against  the  most  desperate  odds  —  and  not  to 
forgive  enemies,  but  to  punish  them. 

And  to-night  the  spirit  in  her  own  breast  responded  to  the 
ancient  barbarity  of  creed.  That  softer  doctrine  of  the 
Gospel,  with  its  soothingly  mystical  miracles  of  forgiveness, 
was  not  substantial  enough  for  the  stern  facts  of  life.  She 
felt  too  sore  and  too  sick  for  the  aid  that  comes  veiled  with 
inscrutable  symbolism,  and  seems  to  martyrize  when  it  seeks 
to  save.  All  that  faith  was  beautiful  but  dim,  like  the  un- 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

substantiality  of  these  church  columns  ascending  through  the 
shadows  to  the  darkness  that  hid  the  roof.  The  reality  was 
before  her  eyes,  where  in  the  strong  light  those  men  stood 
firmly  on  their  own  feet,  and,  singing  the  grand  old  psalm, 
craved  swift  retribution  for  the  ungodly. 

These  harder  thoughts  soon  faded.  As  always  happened, 
the  hour  in  church  did  her  good.  Self-pity,  except  as  the 
most  transient  emotion,  was  well  nigh  impossible  to  her. 
Courage  was  always  renewing  itself,  and  she  could  not  long 
retard  the  heightening  glow  that  succeeded  each  fit  of  de- 
pression. 

After  all,  she  was  in  no  worse  a  fix  than  when  her  first 
husband  threw  a  ruined  business  on  her  hands.  While 
there's  life  there's  hope. 

To  her  surprise  she  found  Mr.  Prentice  waiting  for  her 
outside  the  church  porch. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Prentice ;  "  and  she  looked  at  him 
anxiously.  "  Nothing  wrong,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Prentice  jovially.  "  The  fact  is,  my 
wife  is  on  the  sick  list  again ;  and  as  I'm  at  a  loose  end,  I've 
come  round  to  ask  if  you  could  give  me  a  bit  of  supper." 

The  real  fact  was  that  earlier  in  the  day  he  had  seen 
Mr.  Marsden  driving  to  the  railway  station  with  a  valise 
and  dressing-case  on  the  box  of  the  fly.  He  knew  that  this 
gentleman  was  by  now  safe  in  London,  and  he  had  grasped  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  his  old  friend  alone.  He  desired,  and 
intended  if  possible,  to  cheer  her  up  and  put  new  heart  into 
her. 

"  Come  along  then."  She  was  obviously  pleased  to  ac- 
cept his  company.  "  But  I'm  afraid  there  won't  be  much 
supper  —  because  Richard  is  away  to-night." 

"  I'm  not  hungry.  I  over-ate  myself  at  dinner  —  I  al- 
ways over-eat  on  Sundays.  Bread  and  cheese  will  do  me 
grandly." 

199 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  We'll  try  to  produce  something  better  than  that  " ;  and 
Mrs.  Marsden  bustled  up  the  stairs,  calling  loudly  for 
Yates. 

Yates  produced  some  cold  meat;  and  Mr.  Prentice  said 
he  thought  it  delicious.  Yates  herself  waited  upon  them. 
The  cupboard  that  contained  the  master's  strong  drink  was 
of  course  locked ;  but  there  was  a  supply  of  good  soda  water 
accessible,  and  Yates  ran  out  and  bought  some  doubtful 
whisky.  Mr.  Prentice,  however,  declared  that  the  whisky 
was  excellent.  His  kind  face  beamed;  he  chaffed  Yates, 
and  made  her  toss  her  head  and  giggle  as  she  filled  his 
glass;  he  chatted  gaily  and  easily  with  his  hostess;  —  he 
was  so  friendly,  so  genial,  so  thoroughly  welcome,  that  this 
was  the  happiest  supper  seen  in  St.  Saviour's  Court  for  a 
very  long  time. 

No  fire  had  been  lighted  in  the  drawing-room,  so  when 
their  meal  was  done  they  sat  together  by  the  dining-room 
fire. 

"  What  pleasant  hours,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  looking  round 
at  the  familiar  walls,  "  what  pleasant,  pleasant  hours  I've 
spent  in  this  room.  Those  autumn  dinners  —  with  Mears 
and  the  rest!  How  I  used  to  enjoy  them!  " 

"  You  helped  us  to  enjoy  them." 

"You've  discontinued  them  altogether  —  haven't  you?" 

"  Yes.  Not  without  regret,  both  my  husband  and  I 
decided  that  we  could  not  keep  up  that  little  festival. 
Of  course  you  know,  we  have  been  obliged  to  cut 
down  expenses  wherever  possible.  The  times  are  not  very 
good." 

Of  course  he  knew  very  well  all  about  her  difficulties  in 
the  house  and  in  the  shop. 

"  Better  times  are  coming,"  he  said  cheerily.  "  I  hear 
on  all  sides  of  the  low  ebb  of  trade.  It's  a  regular  com- 
mercial crisis.  But  things  are  going  to  improve.  The  rot- 

200 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

ten   enterprises  will   go   down,   and   the  really  sound   ones 
will  come  out  stronger  than  ever." 

"Oh,  I  forgot.  You  like  to  smoke  —  but  I'm  afraid  the 
cigars  are  locked  up,  too." 

"  I've  plenty  in  my  pocket  —  if  you're  sure  you  don't 
mind." 

She  laughed  amiably.  "How  can  you  ask?  I'm  quite 
smoke-dried.  I  let  Richard  smoke  all  over  the  house." 

While  he  cut  his  cigar  and  lit  it,  he  thought  how  wonder- 
ful she  was  —  with  the  mingled  pride  and  courage  that  al- 
lowed her  always  to  speak  of  her  Richard  as  if  he  had  been 
everything  that  a  husband  should  be. 

He  sat  smoking  for  a  few  minutes  in  a  comfortable  silence, 
while  she,  with  her  hands  placidly  clasped  upon  her  lap, 
gazed  reflectively  at  the  fire. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  holding  his  cigar  over  the  fender  and 
gently  tapping  it  until  the  whitened  ash  fell,  "  there  are  one 
or  two  little  things  that  I'd  like  to  talk  to  you  about." 

She  raised  her  eyes,  and  looked  at  him  attentively. 

"  Nothing  really  worrying,"  he  said  quickly.  "  And 
something  which  you'll  consider  very  much  the  reverse.  But 
I'll  keep  that  for  the  last.  ...  I  had  a  call  the  other 
day  from  your  son-in-law,  Mr.  Kenion." 

"Did  you?" 

"  Yes.  Amongst  other  matters,  he  went  for  me  about  the 
marriage  settlement ; "  and  Mr.  Prentice  laughed  and 
nodded  his  head.  "  You  know,  he  says  that  Enid  ought  to 
have  been  given  power  to  raise  money  for  his  advancement 
in  life.  His  friends  had  told  him  it  is  always  done,  when 
the  wife  has  the  money;  and  he  thought  that  the  trus- 
tees ought  to  manage  it  somehow  —  because  he  has  been 
offered  a  great  opening.  You'll  smile  when  you  hear  what 
it  was." 

"What  was  it?" 

201 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  There  was  a  fellow  called  Whitehouse  who  used  to  be 
Young's  riding-master;  and  it  seems  he  has  made  some 
money  in  London,  and  set  up  a  smart  livery  stable  —  and  he 
proposed  that  Mr.  Kenion  should  join  forces  with  him.  Mr. 
Kenion  was  to  go  about  the  country,  buying  horses  —  and  so 
on.  .  .  .  But  I  only  mentioned  this  to  amuse  you.  Of 
course  I  said  Bosh  —  not  to  be  thought  of." 

"  It  does  not  sound  very  promising,  or  very  reputable." 

"  Besides,  where  did  Enid  come  in  ?  Was  she  to  accom- 
pany him,  or  to  stay  moping  at  home  by  herself?  .  .  . 
Do  you  see  much  of  them  out  there?  " 

Mrs.  Marsden  confessed  that  she  had  not  as  yet  ever  seen 
the  Kenions  in  their  home. 

"  It  isn't  that  there's  the  least  bad  blood  between  us,"  she 
hastened  to  add.  "  No,  dear  Enid  and  I  are  now  the  best 
of  friends.  Ever  since  her  marriage  she  has  been  sweet  to 
me.  But  life  rushes  on  so  fast  —  and  married  women  are 
not  free  agents.  When  Richard  is  away,  I  consider  myself 
responsible  in  the  shop." 

"  Just  so."  And  Mr.  Prentice,  puffing  out  some  smoke, 
looked  at  the  ceiling.  "  By  the  by,  that's  rather  an  awkward 
dispute  that  Mr.  Marsden  has  let  himself  into  with  those 
German  people." 

"What  is  the  dispute?" 

"  Hasn't  he  told  you  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  seem  to  remember  —  but  no  doubt  he  told  me." 

"  Well,  if  he  hasn't  it's  a  good  sign :  because  it  probably 
means  that  he  intends  to  act  on  my  advice  after  all." 

Then  he  explained  the  odious  mess  that  Marsden  had 
made  of  his  American  office  equipments.  It  appeared  that, 
when  arranging  to  sell  these  wretched  things  for  a  handsome 
commission,  he  had  undertaken  to  send  his  principals  accu- 
rate monthly  reports  and  immediately  account  for  all  moneys 
received;  and  had  further  bound  himself,  in  default  of  carry- 

202 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

ing  out  the  precise  provisions  of  the  agreement,  to  take  over 
at  catalogue  price  the  entire  stock  that  had  been  entrusted  to 
his  care.  But  he  had  sent  no  reports;  he  had  forgotten  all 
his  undertakings ;  he  had  received  cash  for  three  small  articles 
and  had  never  furnished  any  account ;  and  the  Germans  said 
the  goods  now  belonged  to  him,  and  not  to  them. 

Mr.  Prentice  declared  that  it  was  the  most  imprudent 
agreement  he  had  ever  read;  and,  although  speaking  guard- 
edly, he  implied  that  in  his  opinion  no  one  but  a  fool  would 
have  signed  it.  But  there  it  was,  signed  and  stamped;  and 
he  did  not  see  how  you  could  wriggle  out  of  it. 

"  Your  husband  vowed  that  he  wouldn't  give  in  to  them. 
But  I  told  him,  from  the  first,  that  he  hadn't  a  leg  to  stand 
on." 

"  I'll  persuade  him  not  to  go  to  law  about  it." 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  it  will  be  best  to  settle  the  wrangle.  You 
see,  he  took  such  a  high  tone  with  them  that  they've  turned 
nasty  —  talk  big  about  obtaining  goods  under  false  pretences, 
and  so  on.  But  that's  bluster  —  they'll  be  glad  enough  to 
get  their  money." 

She  remembered  her  thoughts  in  church.  It  was  hopeless. 
He  kept  her  in  the  dark.  No  business  could  stand  it  —  the 
double  attack:  bleeding  and  buffeting  at  the  same  time.  He 
would  destroy  their  credit  too;  these  continual  blunders  and 
the  attempts  to  repudiate  obligations  would  become  known; 
and  the  firm  would  acquire  a  bad  name. 

"  Don't  look  so  grave,  my  dear.  Your  husband  must  pay 
up,  and  make  the  best  of  it.  ...  And  now  for  my 
bonne  bouche"  Mr.  Prentice's  eyes  twinkled  with  kindly 
merriment;  and  he  spoke  slowly,  in  immense  enjoyment  of 
his  words.  "  This  is  something  from  which  you  cannot  fail 
to  derive  benefit.  It  is  what  I  have  always  been  hoping  for. 
It  will  altogether  relieve  the  pressure." 

"What  is  it?" 

14  203 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Well  —  immediately  facing  you  there  is  a  large  and 
flourishing  organization,  known  to  the  world  as — " 

"  O,  Mr.  Prentice !  "  Her  face  had  brightened,  but  now 
it  clouded  once  more.  "  Don't  say  you  are  going  to  tell  me 
again  that  Bence  is  smashing." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  I  am.     A  most  tremendous  smash !  " 

And  Mr.  Prentice  repeated  the  old  story  in  a  slightly  al- 
tered form.  According  to  his  certain  knowledge,  Archibald 
Bence  was  vainly  striving  to  raise  money  —  was  moving 
heaven  and  earth  to  obtain  even  a  comparatively  small  sum. 
About  a  year  ago,  one  of  Bence's  bad  brothers  had  been 
bought  out  of  the  business;  then  the  other  brother  died,  and 
Bence  was  compelled  to  satisfy  the  claims  of  the  widow  and 
children;  and  since  that  period  he  had  been  drawing  nearer 
and  nearer  to  his  catastrophe.  Now  he  was  done  for,  unless 
he  could  get  some  capital  to  replace  what  had  been  taken 
from  him.  For  years  he  had  been  working  with  the  finest 
possible  margin  of  cash  to  support  his  credit.  At  last  he  had 
cut  it  too  fine.  The  wholesale  trade  were  tired  of  the  risk 
they  had  run  in  dealing  with  him.  They  would  not  supply 
him  any  further,  unless  he  showed  them  first  his  penny  for 
each  reel  of  cotton  or  yard  of  tape. 

"  But  what  makes  you  believe  all  this?  " 

"  I  am  not  free  to  mention  the  sources  of  my  information. 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  backstairs  knowledge." 

Mr.  Prentice  nodded  his  head,  and  smiled  enigmatically,  as 
he  said  this.  Then  he  went  on  to  speak  of  the  solicitors  who 
acted  for  Bence.  Messrs.  Hyde  &  Collins  were  held  in  su- 
preme contempt  by  old-fashioned  Mr.  Prentice.  They  were 
—  as  he  never  scrupled  to  say  —  sharp  practitioners,  shady 
beggars,  dirty  dogs;  and  at  the  offices  in  the  side  street  that 
gives  entrance  to  Trinity  Square,  they  looked  after  the  dubi- 
ous affairs  of  a  lot  of  shabby  clients.  It  was  a  bad  sign  when 
a  MaHingbridge  citizen  went  to  Hyde  &  Collins:  it  meant 

204 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

that  his  finances  were  shaky,  or  that  he  had  become  involved 
in  some  disreputable  transaction. 

"  It  was  enough  for  me,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  "  to  know 
that  Bence  was  in  their  hands.  I  guessed  six  years  ago  what 
would  come  of  it." 

"Yes,  but  guesses,  guesses!     What  are  guesses?" 

"  My  dear,  you  have  only  to  look  at  Bence  now.  It  is 
written  in  his  face  —  a  desperate  man." 

And  Mr.  Prentice  reminded  Mrs.  Marsden  of  the  fact 
that  from  his  office  windows  he  had  an  uninterrupted  view 
down  the  side  street  to  the  front  door  of  Hyde  &  Collins. 
Well,  every  day,  and  two  or  three  times  a  day,  Archibald 
Bence  could  be  seen  hurrying  to  his  solicitors  —  a  man 
driven  by  despair,  a  gold-seeker  amidst  unyielding  rocks,  a 
poor  famished  little  rat  scampering  to  and  fro  in  quest  of 
food. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  with  a  touch  of  pity  in 
his  voice,  "  it's  his  brothers  who  have  done  for  him.  They 
have  literally  sucked  him  dry.  Really,  if  it  wasn't  for  you, 
I  could  almost  feel  sorry  for  him.  But  the  dirty  tricks  he 
has  played  you  put  him  out  of  court." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  thoughtfully  looking 
into  the  fire. 

"  Don't  wonder,"  said  Mr.  Prentice  jovially.  "  Just 
wait  and  see.  You  won't  have  long  to  wait." 

"  I  wish  you  could  find  out  for  certain." 

"  I  am  certain.  .  .  .  Well,  you  always  get  one's  little 
secrets  out  of  one.  I've  no  right  to  mention  this.  But 
Hyde  &  Collins  recently  approached  one  of  my  own  clients 
—  to  find  out  if  he  had  more  money  than  brains.  Coupled 
with  the  other  information,  that  clinches  it.  ...  I  stake 
my  reputation  —  for  what  it's  worth  —  that  unless  Mr. 
Archibald  procures  help  within  the  next  fortnight,  he  will 
have  to  put  up  his  shutters." 

205 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  A  fortnight,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  absently. 

Then  they  talked  of  something  else,  and  soon  Mr.  Pren- 
tice bade  his  hostess  good-night. 

It  had  been  a  pleasant  evening  for  her  —  a  respite  from 
the  storm  and  stress  of  the  days.  But  when  she  slept,  the 
respite  was  immediately  over;  in  dreams  she  fell  back  upon 
doubt  and  difficulty;  in  troubled  and  confused  dreams  she 
was  desperately  fighting  for  life. 


XIX 

AT  last  Mrs.  Marsden  went  to  see  her  daughter,  and  in 
the  next  few  months  she  paid  many  visits. 

Enid  had  written,  asking  her  to  come  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  giving  her  a  reason  why  she  must  not  refuse  this  invita- 
tion. Enid  had  just  discovered  that  she  was  going  to  have  a 
baby.  The  happy  event  was  not  expected  until  the  spring; 
but  Enid  said  she  longed  to  see  her  mother  without  an  hour's 
avoidable  delay. 

Mrs.  Marsden  telegraphed  her  reply.  She  would  come 
out  to-morrow,  Thursday  —  early  closing  day  —  directly 
after  luncheon. 

In  the  old  days  she  would  have  driven  in  one  of  Mr. 
Young's  luxurious  landaus;  but  now  she  travelled  by  train, 
in  a  second  class  carriage,  and  walked  the  mile  and  a  half 
from  Haggart's  Road  station  to  the  Kenions'  converted  farm- 
house. The  day  was  bright  and  fine;  and  the  air  felt  quite 
mild,  although  there  had  been  a  sharp  frost  overnight. 

She  had  hoped  that  Enid  might  feel  up  to  walking,  and 
perhaps  meet  her  at  the  station  —  or  somewhere  on  the  road, 
if  the  station  was  too  far.  But  she  saw  no  friendly  face 
on  the  straight  road,  along  which  she  plodded  with  resolute 
vigour. 

Two  road-menders  near  a  quaint  little  stone  church  di- 
rected her  tp  the  house.  It  was  situated  on  sufficiently  high 
ground,  at  the  end  of  an  accommodation  lane;  and,  as  she 
passed  through  the  gate  and  walked  up  the  little  carriage 
drive,  she  thought  it  all  looked  very  nice  and  comfortable. 
The  house  itself  seemed  old  and  rather  humble  —  less  attrac- 

207 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

tive  than  she  had  anticipated;  but  the  large  outbuildings 
gave  the  place  a  certain  air  of  importance  and  gentility.  She 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  capacious  stableyard,  saw  a  groom 
crossing  it,  and  heard  voices  from  an  invisible  saddle-room  — 
Mr.  Kenion's  voice,  as  she  believed  among  the  rest.  The 
thick-growing  ivy  on  the  walls  was  pretty,  but  it  would  have 
been  the  better  for  cutting;  and  the  garden,  on  this  side  of  the 
house,  appeared  to  be  sadly  neglected. 

The  front  door  stood  open;  and  while  she  waited  for 
somebody  to  answer  the  bell,  she  had  an  opportunity  of 
glancing  at  the  decorations  of  the  hall.  They  had  all  been 
paid  for  by  her  purse,  so  she  was  fairly  entitled  to  look  at 
them  critically  if  she  pleased.  She  liked  the  appearance  of 
the  painted  ceiling-beams,  the  panelled  dado,  the  modern 
basket  grate  with  the  blue  and  white  tiles;  but  she  did  not 
so  much  like  the  sporting  prints,  the  heads  and  tails  of  foxes, 
the  hats  and  coats  lying  so  untidily  on  all  the  chairs,  the  im- 
mense number  of  whips  and  sticks,  and  the  ugly  glass  case 
that  held  horses'  bits  and  men's  spurs  and  stirrups.  That 
was  a  decoration  more  suitable  to  Mr.  Kenion's  harness  room 
than  to  Mrs.  Kenion's  hall.  She  could  hear  the  servants 
talking  somewhere  quite  near;  and  yet  they  could  not  hear 
the  bell,  although  she  had  rung  it  loudly  enough  three 
times. 

Presently,  as  if  by  chance,  a  maid  showed  herself. 

"  Not  at  home,"  said  the  maid  briskly. 

Mrs.  Marsden  gave  her  name,  and  explained  that  the  mis- 
tress of  the  house  would  certainly  be  at  home  to  her. 

"  Very  good,  ma'am,"  said  the  maid,  doubtfully.  "  Step 
this  way,  and  I'll  tell  her.  She's  upstairs,  lying  down,  I 
think." 

Then  Mrs.  Marsden  was  shown  into  what  she  supposed  to 
be  the  drawing-room,  and  left  waiting  there.  There  was 
something  rather  chilling  and  disappointing  in  the  whole 

208 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

manner  of  her  reception  at  the  home  that  she  had  provided 
for  Enid  and  her  husband. 

She  was  allowed  plenty  of  time  to  examine  more  ceiling 
beams  and  blue  tiles,  to  admire  photographs  in  silver  frames, 
or  to  read  the  sporting  newspapers  and  magazines  that  lit- 
tered every  table.  The  room  was  pretty  —  but  dreadfully 
untidy.  She  walked  over  to  one  of  the  windows,  and  looked 
out.  There  had  been  no  greater  attempt  at  gardening  on 
this  side  of  the  house  than  on  the  other :  the  few  shrubs  were 
overgrown;  the  gravel  paths  had  almost  disappeared  under 
moss  and  weeds. 

Beyond  iron  railings  she  saw  the  grass  fields  that  Enid 
had  said  were  like  a  park.  As  a  park  they  were  completely 
disfigured  by  some  ugly  buildings  with  corrugated  iron  roofs 
—  really  hideous  erections,  which  she  guessed  to  be  horse- 
boxes. In  each  meadow  there  was  an  artificially  made  jump 
for  the  horses;  and,  looking  farther  away,  she  saw  that  these 
sham  obstacles  together  with  the  natural  banks  and  hedges 
formed  a  miniature  steeplechase  course. 

With  a  sigh  she  turned  from  the  windows.  Indoors  and 
out  of  doors  there  was  too  much  evidence  of  the  husband's 
amusements,  and  not  enough  evidence  of  the  wife's  tastes  and 
occupations.  The  whole  place  was  altogether  too  much  like 
a  bachelor's  home  to  please  Enid's  mother. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  Kenion  slouched  in.  He 
had  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  riding  breeches;  and  he 
looked  gloomy,  worried,  anything  but  glad  to  see  the  visitor. 
It  was  the  first  time  that  they  had  met  since  the  wedding, 
and  it  proved  rather  an  unfortunate  meeting. 

"  How  do  you  do  —  Mr.  Charles?  " 

"  Oh,  you've  come  after  all.  You  got  the  news,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  have." 

".Beastly  unlucky,  isn't  it?" 
209 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"What's  that?" 

"  But  I  am  unlucky." 

"  Unlucky,  Mr.  Kenion !  "  Mrs.  Marsden  had  flushed ; 
and  her  face  plainly  expressed  the  anger  and  contempt  that 
she  felt. 

"  No  one  can  say  I'm  to  blame,"  Kenion  went  on  gloomily 
and  grumblingly.  "I'd  have  given  fifty  pounds  to  prevent 
its  happening.  It  wasn't  my  fault.  I  knew  she  was  as 
clever  as  a  cat.  I  thought  she  couldn't  make  a  mistake." 

"  Mr.  Kenion,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  hotly,  "  if  you  aren't 
ashamed  to  speak  like  this,  I  am  ashamed  to  listen  to  you." 

"Eh —  what?" 

"Where  is  Enid?"  And  she  moved  towards  the  door. 
"  I  think  your  attitude  is  unmanly  —  mean  —  and  despica- 
ble; and  I  wish  —  yes,  I  wish  Enid's  child  was  going  to 
have  a  better  father." 

"Eh  — what?" 

"  If  you  had  a  spark  of  proper  feeling,  you'd  rejoice,  you'd 
thank  God  that  this  —  this  great  blessing  was  coming  to 
her." 

Kenion  suddenly  bent  his  thin  back,  and  became  completely 
doubled  up  with  a  fit  of  cackling  laughter. 

"  It's  too  comic,"  he  spluttered.  "  Best  thing  I  ever  heard 
—  Ought  to  be  sent  to  Punch!" 

"  If  you  are  joking,  Mr.  Kenion,  I'm  sorry  for  your  ideas 
of  fun." 

"  No.  No  —  don't  be  angry.  You'll  laugh  when  you 
see  the  joke.  Of  course  you  " —  and  again  his  own  laughter 
interrupted  him  —  "  you  —  you  were  talking  about  Enid's 
baby.  .  .  .  Well,  I  was  talking  about  Mrs.  Bulford's 
mare." 

Then  he  explained  the  disaster  that  had  befallen  them.  A 
very  valuable  animal,  the  property  of  a  friend,  had  been 
placed  in  his  charge  to  train  it  for  a  point-to-point  race;  and 

2IO 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

this  morning  it  had  broken  its  back  over  one  of  the  artificial 
jumps. 

"  And  we  were  all  so  upset  —  Enid  has  been  crying  about 
it  —  that  I  sent  you  a  telegram,  telling  you  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  asking  you  not  to  come  out  to-day.  But  you 
never  got  it  really  ?  " 

"  No,  it  must  have  arrived  after  I  started." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you've  come  —  for  you  have  given  me  a 
good  laugh.  Though  Heaven  knows "  —  and  he  became 
gloomy  again  —  "  it  isn't  a  laughing  matter.  I  wonder  I 
was  able  to  laugh." 

Then  Enid  came  into  the  room.  There  were  red  rims 
round  her  eyes,  and  her  nose  seemed  swollen;  evidently  she 
had  shed  many  tears. 

"Mother  dear,  isn't  this  dreadful?" 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  I'm  so  sorry  for  poor  Charles." 

"  So  am  I,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden.  "  But  we  must  be 
glad  that  he  himself  escaped  without  injury." 

"  Oh,  I  wasn't  riding  her,"  said  Charles. 

"No,"  said  Enid.  "Tom  was  riding  her  —  and  he  has 
broken  his  collar  bone." 

"  Yes,"  said  Charles,  plunging  his  hands  deep  in  his  pock- 
ets and  hunching  his  shoulders.  "  That's  another  bit  of 
luck.  My  second-horseman  laid  up,  just  when  I  most 
wanted  him." 

"  It  was  the  frost  in  the  ground,"  said  Enid  sadly.  "  All 
the  frost  seemed  to  be  gone ;  "  and  she  turned  to  her  hus- 
band. "  Charlie,  it  wasn't  your  fault.  Mrs.  Bulford  can't 
blame  you." 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  she  will.  She's  a  stunner  —  but 
Bulford  may  kick  up  a  fuss." 

"Oh,  how  can  he?  He  knew  that  the  mare  had  to  be 
trained." 

211 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mrs.  Marsden  made  this  first  visit  a  very  short  one.  The 
host  and  hostess  were  too  much  perturbed  and  agitated  to 
tntertain  visitors. 

Next  time  she  came  out,  Enid  was  less  preoccupied  with 
her  husband's  affairs,  and  able  to  talk  freely  of  her  own 
hopes.  She  clung  to  her  mother  affectionately,  and  once 
again  was  the  new  Enid  who  had  knelt  by  the  sofa  and 
sobbed  her  gratitude  for  past  kindness. 

Each  kept  up  the  pretence  of  being  satisfied  and  contented 
in  her  married  life.  Enid  never  had  a  bad  word  to  say  of 
Charles;  and  Mrs.  Marsden  spoke  of  Richard  with  as  yet 
unabated  courage.  In  fact  there  was  probably  no  one  with 
whom  she  was  so  very  careful  to  maintain  a  decorous  appear- 
ance of  connubial  happiness  as  with  the  daughter  who,  by  the 
light  of  her  own  experience,  would  most  surely  detect  the 
imposture. 

But  behind  the  dual  reticences  there  was  an  ever  increas- 
ing sympathy.  The  hard  facts  which  neither  would  admit 
were  drawing  them  nearer  and  nearer  together.  So  that  it 
seemed  sometimes  that  on  all  subjects  except  the  two  for- 
bidden subjects  they  were  now  absolutely  of  the  same  mind. 

When  Enid  noticed  the  careworn,  harassed  look  in  her 
mother's  face,  she  used  at  once  to  think,  "  That  brute  has 
committed  some  fresh  villainy  during  the  week." 

But  what  she  said  was  something  after  this  style: 
"  Mother  dear,  I'm  afraid  you  have  been  working  too 
hard  " ;  or  "  Mother  dear,  you  ought  to  have  had  a  fly  from 
the  station.  I  am  afraid  the  walk  has  fatigued  you." 

And  when  Mrs.  Marsden  saw  Enid's  worried,  nervous 
manner,  the  traces  of  more  tears  about  the  pretty  grey 
eyes,  she  thought,  "  This  selfish  beast  has  been  tormenting 
her  again.  I  suppose  he  does  everything  short  of  beating 
her;  and  perhaps  he'll  do  that  before  very  long." 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

But  she  merely  said,  "  Enid,  my  dear,  I  hope  you  have 
had  no  more  bother  about  the  horses.  You  mustn't  let 
Charles'  worries  set  you  fretting  —  especially  now." 

The  indications  of  Mr.  Kenion's  selfishness  were  so  pain- 
fully plain  that  little  penetration  was  required  to  under- 
stand the  discomfort  that  they  caused.  No  wife,  however 
loyal,  could  feel  any  peace  or  comfort  with  such  a  self- 
centred,  insensible,  shallow-pated  companion. 

Whenever  he  appeared  he  made  Mrs.  Marsden  supremely 
uncomfortable.  When  indoors  he  was  always  restless.  He 
wandered  aimlessly  about  the  house,  coming  in  and  out  of 
rooms,  fidgetting  and  bothering  about  trifles  —  behaving 
generally  like  the  spoilt  and  rather  vicious  child  who  on 
wet  days  renders  existence  intolerable  to  all  the  grown-up 
people  compelled  to  remain  under  the  same  roof  with 
him. 

"Hullo!  More  tea!"  And  he  would  come  lounging 
after  the  maid  who  was  bringing  in  the  tea-things.  "  It 
seems  as  if  you  are  having  tea  from  morning  to  night. 
What  ?  I  tell  Enid  she  drinks  a  lot  too  much  tea  —  and  it 
only  makes  her  jumpy  and  peevish." 

He  himself  drank  very  little  tea;  and  Mrs.  Marsden 
gathered  that  not  the  least  of  Enid's  anxieties  was  occa- 
sioned by  his  intemperance.  But  this  was  a  summer  trouble. 
In  the  hunting  season  men  who  regularly  ride  hard  can  also 
regularly  drink  hard  without  apparently  hurting  them- 
selves. 

Once  when  Mrs.  Marsden  was  about  to  set  out  for  her 
lonely  tramp  to  the  station,  Enid  with  some  very  pretty 
words  asked  her  for  a  photograph. 

"  There's  not  one  of  you  in  all  the  house,  mother  —  and 
I  want  one  now  badly.  .  .  .  If  it  is  to  be  a  girl,  I  want 
her  to  be  like  you  —  in  all  things,  mother  —  and  not  like 


213 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mrs.  Marsden  was  more  deeply  touched  by  this  request 
than  she  cared  to  show.  She  kissed  Enid  smilingly,  patted 
her  hand,  and  promised  to  send  out  a  portrait. 

There  was  one  in  the  drawing-room  at  home,  which  no 
doubt  Mr.  Marsden  could  spare. 

Then,  while  putting  on  her  gloves  and  talking  cheerfully, 
she  glanced  at  Enid's  collection  of  photographs  in  the  silver 
frames. 

"Who  is  that  lady,  Enid?" 

"  Oh,  that's  Mamie  Bulford." 

Several  of  the  frames  contained  pictures  of  this  important 
personage,  who  appeared  to  be  a  hard-visaged  but  rather 
handsome  woman  of  thirty  or  thirty-five.  She  was  enor- 
mously rich,  Enid  said,  and  madly  keen  about  hunting;  and 
she  and  her  husband  lived  at  a  beautiful  place  called  Wid- 
more  Towers,  two  miles  the  other  side  of  Linkfield  village. 
This  year  Charlie  was  acting  as  her  pilot  in  the  hunting 
field;  and  four  horses  were  kept  at  the  Towers  solely  for 
the  pilot's  use. 

"  Charlie,"  said  Enid,  "  is  such  a  magnificent  pilot  —  for 
anyone  who  means  going.  And  Mamie  will  be  there,  or 
thereabouts,  don't  you  know,  all  the  time." 

"Does  not  Mr.  Bulford  go  out  hunting?" 

"Major  Bulford!  Yes,  but  he's  crocked  —  stiff  leg  — 
so  he  hunts  on  wheels  —  follows  in  a  dog-cart.  That's 
rather  fun,  you  know.  You  see  a  lot  of  sport  that 
way." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  remember  you  said  you  were  going  to  do 
that,  yourself." 

And  Mrs.  Marsden  asked  about  the  pony-cart  that  was 
to  have  been  procured  for  Enid. 

But  the  pony-cart  had  become  impossible  —  and  Enid 
vaguely  hinted  at  hard  times,  difficulty  of  finding  spare  cash 
for  expenses  that  were  not  urgently  necessary,  and  so  on. 

214 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Besides,  it  was  a  perambulator  and  not  a  pony  carriage  that 
Mr.  Kenion  must  now  buy. 


The  baby  —  a  girl  —  was  born  early  in  April. 

Mrs.  Marsden  tried  but  failed  to  get  a  fly  at  Haggart's 
Road  station,  and  almost  ran  for  the  mile  and  a  half  that 
still  separated  her  from  her  daughter. 

Everything  was  all  right;  mother  and  child  were  doing 
well;  it  was  the  finest  and  most  beautiful  infant  that  had 
ever  been  seen.  The  grandmother,  eagerly  scanning  its  tiny 
features,  was  gratified  by  recognizing  the  mother's  grey  eyes 
and  what  might  be  taken  for  the  first  immature  sketch  of  her 
long  nose.  She  was,  if  possible,  more  pleased  by  her  in- 
ability to  trace  the  faintest  resemblance  to  the  father. 

When  in  a  few  days  she  came  again,  it  was  to  find  Enid 
radiantly  happy  and  picking  up  strength  delightfully.  And 
at  this  visit  Mrs.  Marsden's  heart  was  made  to  overflow  by 
the  things  that  Enid  said  to  her. 

Amongst  the  things  was  the  emphatic  statement  that  the 
child  should  be  called  Jane,  and  that  her  grandmother  should 
also  be  her  godmother. 

Mr.  Kenion  accepted  his  blessing  phlegmatically. 

"  Pity  it  isn't  a  boy,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Marsden. 

Enid  said  he  hid  his  delight.  It  was  a  pose.  He  was 
really  revelling  in  the  joy  of  being  a  father. 

But  he  had  not  yet  bought  the  perambulator.  He  asked 
his  mother-in-law's  advice  —  because,  as  he  said,  she  was 
"  up  in  that  sort  of  thing."  Did  people  hire  perambulators, 
or  buy  them  right  out?  Could  one  get  a  decent  perambu- 
lator in  Mallingbridge,  or  would  one  have  to  go  fagging 
up  to  London? 

Mrs.  Marsden  bought  the  perambulator,  and  sent  it  with 
her  love  in  the  carrier's  cart;  and  Mr.  Kenion  told  Enid 

215 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

that  he  hoped  her  mother  hadn't  given  much  for  it,  because 
it  didn't  look  worth  much. 

Once,  before  the  christening,  Enid  slightly  attacked  those 
diplomatic  barriers  of  reserve  that  had  been  established  by 
tacit  consent  between  her  and  her  mother. 

She  nervously  and  timidly  asked  if  Mr.  Marsden  would 
mind  not  coming  to  the  little  feast. 

But  Mrs.  Marsden  was  on  the  defensive  in  a  moment. 
Even  at  this  auspicious  and  sentimental  time  she  could  not 
permit  any  breach  in  her  barrier.  She  said  that  her  husband 
was  generally  considered  very  good  company,  and  he  would 
have  no  wish  to  go  where  he  was  not  wanted. 

"  It  is  only,"  said  Enid,  "  because  I  should  be  afraid  of 
Charles  and  him  not  getting  on  well  together  —  and  I  do 
so  want  everything  to  go  off  happily.  You  know,  he  wrote 
Charles  a  very  indignant  letter  about  the  County  Club." 

"  He  felt  rather  sore  on  that  subject,  dear  —  and  so  did  I." 

"  Really,  mother,  Charles  did  all  he  could ;  but  they  made 
him  withdraw  the  candidature.  Of  course  it's  absurd  — 
but  they  are  so  severe  with  regard  to  retail  trade." 

"  Well,  be  all  that  as  it  may,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  "  you 
need  not  disturb  your  mind  about  Richard.  He  could  not 
have  come  in  any  case.  I  told  him  the  date  —  and  he  is 
not  free  on  that  day." " 

But  for  Mr.  Charles,  it  might  have  been  a  satisfactory 
christening. 

He  was  a  most  uncomfortable  host;  continually  getting 
up  from  the  luncheon  table,  walking  about  the  room,  worry- 
ing the  maid-servants;  and  wounding  Enid  by  his  facetiously 
disparaging  remarks  about  the  food. 

"  Our  meals  are  always  rather  a  picnic,"  he  told  the 
guests;  "  so  you  must  look  out  for  yourselves.  ...  I 
say,  how  am  I  supposed  to  carve  this?  What?  A  pudding! 

216 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

What's  the  good  of  dabbing  a  lot  of  sweets  in  front  of  peo- 
ple, before  they've  had  any  meat?  Enid,  isn't  there  any 
fish?  I  thought  you  said  there  was  curried  sole;"  and 
he  got  up,  and  rambled  away  to  the  sideboard. 

"  Charles,"  said  Enid  plaintively,  "  this  is  the  curry — here." 

"What?  Then  fire  ahead  with  it.  ...  But 
where's  Harriet  disappeared  to?  " 

"  She  is  fetching  the  cutlets  —  and  the  other  things.  Do 
sit  down." 

"  Oh,  Harriet,  here  you  are.  .  .  .  Where  the  dickens 
have  you  hidden  the  wine?  This  seems  to  be  a  very  dry 
party;"  and  he  gave  his  stupid  cackling  laugh  just  behind 
Mrs.  Marsden's  back.  "  Oh,  here  we  are.  Now  then, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  hock,  claret,  whisky  and  soda?  Name 
your  tipple.  And  please  excuse  short-comings." 

But  in  truth  there  were  no  short-comings.  Poor  Enid 
had  tried  so  hard  to  have  everything  really  nice  —  the  best 
glass  and  china,  pretty  flowers,  and  dainty  appetising  food, 
sufficient  for  twenty  people  and  good  enough  for  princes. 
And  she  looked  so  charming  at  the  head  of  the  table  —  her 
face  rounder  and  plumper  than  it  used  to  be,  her  figure 
fuller,  her  complexion  delicately  glowing,  her  eyes  shining 
softly, —  the  young  mother,  in  what  should  have  been  the 
hour  of  her  undimmed  glory.  Mrs.  Marsden,  as  she  listened 
to  the  cackling  fool  behind  her  chair  and  saw  the  shadow 
of  pain  take  the  brightness  from  Enid's  face,  bridled  and 
grew  warm. 

"Whisky  and  soda,  Mrs.  B?  .  .  .  Father,  put  a: 
name  to  it." 

Mrs.  Bulford  —  a  hardy  brunette,  richly  attired,  and 
undoubtedly  handsome,  but  older  than  she  looked  in  her 
photographs  —  was  to  be  the  other  godmother.  She  and 
the  host  were  evidently  on  excellent  terms,  understanding 
each  other's  form  of  humour,  possessing  little  secret  jokes  of 

217 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

their  own  —  so  that  every  time  Charles  cackled  she  had  a 
suffocating  laugh  ready.  The  hostess  called  her  "  Mamie," 
and  even  "  Mamie  dear  " ;  but  Mrs.  Marsden  surmised  that 
Enid  did  not  really  like  her,  and  had  not  wanted  her  for 
a  godmother. 

Old  Mr.  Kenion  —  the  vicar  of  Chapel  Norton  —  was 
white-haired,  thin,  and  fragile;  and  Mrs.  Marsden  thought 
he  seemed  to  be  a  good,  weak,  over-burdened  man.  His 
manner  was  mild,  courteous,  kindly.  Mrs.  Kenion  was 
shabbily  pretentious,  with  faded  airs  of  fashion  and  dull 
echoes  of  distinguished  voices.  They  had  brought  one  of 
their  daughters  with  them  —  a  spinster  of  uncertain  age  in 
a  tailor-made  gown  and  a  masculine  collar.  The  curate  of 
the  small  stone  church  made  up  the  party. 

But  old  Mr.  Kenion  would  read  the  christening  service, 
and  not  this  local  clergyman. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  mildly  beaming  across  the  table  at  Mrs. 
Marsden,  "  I  am  to  have  the  privilege  to  hold  my  grand- 
child at  the  font." 

And  then  presently,  when  the  servant  had  poured  out 
some  hock  for  him,  he  addressed  Mrs.  Marsden  again. 

"  May  I  advert  to  a  practice  that  has  fallen  into  disuse, 
and  drink  a  glass  of  wine  with  you  ?  .  .  .  To  our  better 
acquaintance,  Mrs.  Marsden ; "  and  he  bowed  in  quite  a 
pleasant  old-world  style. 

"  Bravo,  governor,"  said  Charles.  "  Fill,  and  fill  again. 
Nothing  like  toasts  to  keep  the  bottle  moving." 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  vicar's  wife,  with  patronising 
urbanity ;  "  so  very  pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance  —  at 
last,  don't  you  know.  We  only  saw  one  another  at  the 
wedding."  And  while  Charles  and  Mrs.  Bulford  took 
alternate  parts  in  the  telling  of  an  anecdote,  she  continued 
to  talk  to  Mrs.  Marsden.  "  Of  course  I  have  known  you  in 
your  public  capacity  for  years.  My  girls  and  I  have  always 

218 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

been  devoted  to  Thompson's.  *  Get  it  at  Thompson's ' — 
that's  what  they  always  said."  She  was  honestly  trying  to 
be  agreeable.  Indeed  she  particularly  wished  to  please. 
"  All  my  girls  said  it.  Is  it  not  so,  Emily  ?  .  .  .  She  does 
not  hear.  She  is  too  much  amused  by  her  brother's  story. 
.  .  .  But  that  was  always  the  cry.  '  Get  it  at 
Thompson's!'  And  I'm  sure  we  never  failed  at  Thomp- 
son's." 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Pontius,"  said  Mrs.  Bulford,  loudly. 
"  You're  spoiling  the  point.  Let  me  go  on  by  myself." 

"  Yes,  that's  what  you  often  say  —  but  you're  glad  to 
have  me  ahead  of  you  when  you  think  there's  wire  about." 

"Will  you  be  quiet,  Pontius?" 

And  Mrs.  Bulford  was  allowed  to  finish  the  anecdote 
in  her  own  way.  Then  she  suffocated,  and  Charles  cackled ; 
but  no  one  else,  not  even  Mrs.  Kenion,  could  see  the  point 
of  the  little  tale. 

The  local  curate,  a  shy,  pink-complexioned  young  man, 
had  scarcely  talked  at  all;  but  now  he  was  endeavouring  to 
make  a  little  polite  conversation  with  Enid.  He  said  he 
hoped  the  church  would  be  found  quite  warm ;  he  had  given 
orders  that  the  hot-water  apparatus  should  be  set  working  in 
good  time ;  and  he  thought  they  were,  moreover,  fortunate  to 
have  such  genial  bright  weather.  Sometimes  April  days 
proved  treacherously  cold.  Then  he  inquired  if  the  god- 
father was  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony. 

"  No,"  said  Charles,  answering  for  his  wife.  "  I  am  to 
be  proctor  —  proxy  —  what  d'ye  call  it?  —  for  Jack  Gas- 
coigne,  a  pal  of  mine.  .  .  .  You  must  teach  me  the 
business,  Mrs.  B." 

"All  right,  Pontius,"  said  Mrs.  Bulford  gaily.  "Copy 
me." 

"  You  will  not  come  to  the  church  in  that  costume,"  said 
old  Kenion,  with  sudden  gravity. 
15  219 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Why  not  ?  Ain't  I  smart  enough  ?  These  are  a  new 
pair  of  breeches." 

"  Of  course  you  must  change  your  clothes,  Pontius,"  said 
Mrs.  Bulford.  "  I  wouldn't  be  seen  in  church  with  you 
like  that." 

Then  old  Kenion  asked  a  question  which  Mrs.  Marsden 
would  herself  have  wished  to  ask. 

"  Why  do  you  call  my  son  Pontius?  " 

"  You'd  better  not  ask  her  to  tell  you,  father.  She  has 
been  very  badly  brought  up  —  and  she'll  shock  you." 

But  Mrs.  Bulford  insisted  upon  telling  the  old  vicar. 

"  I  call  him  Pontius  because  he  is  my  pilot.  .  .  . 
Don't  you  see?  Pontius  Pilot!  .  .  .  There,  I  have 
shocked  him ; "  and  she  gave  her  suffocating  laugh  and 
Charles  began  to  cackle. 

His  father  looked  distressed  and  confused ;  the  curate,  with 
the  pink  of  his  complexion  greatly  intensified,  examined  the 
design  on  a  dessert  plate;  Mrs.  Marsden  frowned  and  bit 
her  lip;  old  Mrs.  Kenion  opened  a  voluble  discourse  on  the 
virtues  of  fresh  air  for  young  children. 

"  I  hope,  Enid,  that  you  will  bring  up  the  little  one  as 
a  hardy  plant.  Windows  wide  —  floods  of  air !  I  beg  of 
you  not  to  coddle  her.  I  never  would  allow  any  of  my 
children  to  be  coddled.  .  .  ." 

Charles  sat  dilatorily  drinking  port  after  luncheon;  and, 
while  he  changed  his  clothes,  everybody  was  kept  waiting 
with  the  baby  at  the  church. 

That  is  to  say,  everybody  except  Mrs.  Bulford.  She 
stayed  at  the  house,  having  promised  to  hustle  Charles  along 
as  quickly  as  possible.  But  a  shower  of  rain  detained  them ; 
and  it  seemed  an  immense  time  before  they  finally  appeared 
on  the  church  path,  walking  arm  in  arm,  under  one  um- 
brella. 

When  the  service  was  over,  and  a  group  had  assembled 
220 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

round  the  perambulator  at  the  church  gate,  and  all  were 
offering  congratulations  to  the  proud  mother,  old  Mrs. 
Kenion  gently  drew  Mrs.  Marsden  aside  and  spoke  to  her 
in  urgent  entreaty. 

"  Now  that  they've  given  you  a  dear  little  granddaughter, 
you  will  do  something  for  them,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  But  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  rather  grimly,  "  that 
I  have  done  something  for  them." 

"  Yes,  but  you'll  do  a  little  more  now,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  fear  that  your  son  must  not  rely  on  me  for  further 
aid." 

"  Oh,  do/'  said  Mrs.  Kenion  earnestly.  "  Poor  Charles 
would  not  care  to  ask  you  himself.  So  I  determined  to  take 
my  courage  in  both  hands,  and  speak  to  you  with  absolute 
candour.  It  is  such  a  tight  fit  for  him  —  and  now,  with 
nurses  and  all  the  rest  of  it !  We  would  come  to  the  rescue 
so  gladly,  if  we  could  —  but,  alas,  how  can  we?  You  do 
know  that  we  would,  don't  you,  dear  Mrs.  Marsden? 
.  .  .  No,  please,  not  a  definite  answer  now.  Only  think 
about  it.  Your  kind  heart  will  plead  for  them  more  elo- 
quently than  any  words  of  mine."  .  .  . 

Mrs.  Marsden  had  given  the  nurse  a  sovereign.  She 
hurried  back  to  the  church,  and  tipped  the  clerk  and  the 
pew-owner.  Then  she  trudged  off  to  the  railway  station; 
and  went  home,  like  Sisyphus  or  the  Danaides,  to  take  up 
her  apparently  impossible  task. 


XX 

Two  years  had  passed,  and  the  grand  old  shop  was  plainly 
going  down. 

It  could  not  satisfy  chance  customers;  it  had  begun  to 
lose  its  staunchest  supporters.  Gradually  and  fatally,  cruel 
words  were  going  round  the  town  and  far  out  into  the 
country  villages.  "  It  isn't  what  it  used  to  be.  ... 
It  has  had  its  day.  .  .  .  Nothing  lasts  forever." 

Fewer  and  fewer  carriages  of  the  local  gentry  were  to  be 
seen  standing  outside  its  doors.  Farmers'  wives,  who  for 
more  than  a  decade  had  driven  into  Mallingbridge  and  spent 
Saturday  afternoons  picking  and  choosing  at  Thompson's, 
now  did  all  their  shopping  somewhere  else.  The  whole 
world  seemed  to  be  discovering  that  you  could  get  whatever 
you  wanted  quite  as  well  and  more  cheaply  somewhere  else. 
And  from  somewhere  else,  your  goods  —  no  matter  where 
you  lived,  whether  far  or  near  —  were  delivered  free  of 
charge,  with  marvellous  celerity,  and  "  returnable  if 
damaged." 

Inside  the  sinking  shop  every  assistant  too  well  knew  that 
horrid  expression,  "  Somewhere  else." 

It  paralysed  the  tongues  of  the  shop  girls;  it  struck  them 
stupid.  Each  time  they  heard  it,  their  courage  waned,  their 
hopes  drooped;  they  gave  up  struggling. 

"  Thank  you,  I  won't  trouble  you  any  more." 

"  Not  the  least  trouble,  I  assure  you." 

"  No,  you're  very  good  —  but  I'm  in  a  hurry.  I'll  try 
somewhere  else." 

"  Very  well,  madam." 

222 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

A  lost  customer  —  no  more  to  be  done. 

Yet  the  assistants  had  before  their  eyes  a  fine  example  of 
unflagging  courage.  Of  one  of  the  partners  at  least,  it 
could  not  be  said  that  there  was  supineness,  neglect,  or 
bungling  practices  to  account  for  the  long-continued  and 
increasing  depression  that  all  the  employees  were  feeling  so 
severely. 

Of  the  other  partner,  the  less  said  the  better.  They 
could  not  indeed  find  words  adequate  for  the  expression  of 
their  opinions  in  regard  to  him. 

When  Mrs.  Marsden,  bravely  facing  the  situation  and 
calmly  acknowledging  the  logic  of  facts,  had  declared  that 
it  was  imperatively  necessary  to  reduce  what  in  railway 
management  are  called  running  expenses,  and  at  all  hazards 
bring  expenditure  and  receipts  again  to  a  proper  working 
ratio,  the  dominant  partner  selfishly  jumped  at  the  idea, 
converted  it  into  a  fresh  weapon  of  destruction,  and  used  it 
with  wicked  force. 

Cut  down  the  staff?  Yes,  this  is  a  luminous  notion. 
Where  there  have  been  five  assistants  at  a  counter,  let  us 
have  three  —  or  only  two.  "  We  must  weed  'em  out, 
Mears.  No  more  cats  than  can  catch  mice!  I'll  soon  weed 
'em  out." 

It  seemed  to  the  people  behind  the  counters  that  he  took 
a  diabolical  pleasure  in  the  weeding-out  process.  Instead 
of  getting  through  his  dismissals  as  quickly  as  possible,  he 
kept  the  poor  souls  in  suspense  —  giving  the  sack  to  two  or 
three  every  day;  so  that  these  black  weeks  were  a  reign  of 
terror,  during  which  one  rose  each  morning  with  the  dread- 
ful doubt  whether  one  would  survive  till  night. 

When  at  last  the  executions  ceased,  almost  every  one  of 
the  important  heads  had  fallen.  Why  pay  high  wages  for 
subordinate  chieftains  when  the  over-lords  can  supervise  for 
nothing?  Mrs.  Marsden  received  instructions  to  keep  an 

223 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

eye  on  all  departments;  shop-walkers  were  made  by  giving 
counter-hands  additional  duties  without  additional  pay;  and 
Mr.  Mears  and  Miss  Woolfrey  could  respectively  be  con- 
sidered as  remaining  in  managerial  charge  of  the  whole 
ground  floor  and  the  whole  first  floor. 

The  gigantic  basement  was  in  charge  of  darkness,  damp, 
and  the  cold  spirit  of  failure.  Marsden  never  spoke  of  it 
himself,  and  might  not  be  reminded  about  it  by  others.  He 
wished  to  forget  the  deep  hole  into  which  he  had  poured  so 
much  irretrievable  gold. 

Miss  Woolfrey  could  not  boast  of  having  been  promoted : 
she  had  merely  survived:  she  obtained  neither  recompense 
nor  praise  for  doing  the  extra  work  that  a  stern  master  had 
pushed  into  her  way.  If  Mr.  Mears  had  not  been  driven 
out  into  the  street,  it  was  because  Marsden,  whose  selfish 
folly  was  sometimes  tempered  by  a  certain  shrewd  cunning, 
had  definitely  come  to  the  conclusion  that,  bad  as  things 
were,  they  would  be  worse  if  he  deprived  himself  of  the  help 
of  this  faithful  servant.  Mears  had  stood  up  to  him ;  Mears 
had  convinced  him ;  Mears  would  never  be  dismissed,  because 
Mears  could  never  be  replaced. 

It  was  perhaps  some  slight  comfort  to  Mrs.  Marsden  to 
know  now  that  her  oldest  shop  friend  would  be  allowed  to 
keep  his  promise,  and  to  stick  to  her  as  long  as  he  cared  to 
do  so. 

Soon  after  the  reduction  of  the  staff,  Marsden  introduced 
another  economy.  Without  warning  he  started  an  entirely 
new  system  of  payment.  Hitherto  all  wages  had  been  at 
fixed  rates,  with  progressive  rises;  and  the  staff,  feeling 
security  in  their  situations  and  able  to  look  to  an  assured 
future,  had  worked  loyally  without  the  stimulus  of  com- 
mission. But  Marsden  said  these  methods  were  antiquated, 
exploded;  they  did  very  well  before  Noah's  flood,  but  they 
wouldn't  do  nowadays.  Henceforth  everybody's  screw  must 

224 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

depend  upon  the  commissions  earned:  in  other  words,  the 
basis  for  the  calculation  of  wages  must  be  the  amount  of  the 
shop's  receipts. 

Mears,  protesting  but  submitting,  carried  the  new  order 
into  effect. 

"I've  no  objection  on  principle,"  said  Mears  heavily; 
"  but  you  have  chosen  a  queer  time  to  do  it,  sir  —  just  when 
takings  have  dropped  to  their  lowest,  and  there's  no  move- 
ment in  any  line." 

Resentment,  murmuring,  discontent  followed;  half  a  dozen 
sufferers  went  into  voluntary  exile;  then  there  was  silence. 

And  then  Marsden  thought  of  a  third  economy.  Thomp- 
son's had  ever  been  famed  for  keeping  a  generous  table. 
You  were  sure  of  good  sound  grub,  and  as  much  of  it  as 
you  could  stow  away,  to  sustain  you  in  your  toil.  The 
kitchens  and  dining-rooms  were  controlled  by  a  man  and  his 
wife,  with  four  cook-maids  and  three  waitresses;  and  for 
many  years  these  people  had  given  the  utmost  satisfaction, 
both  to  their  employer  and  her  daily  guests.  Now  Mr. 
Marsden  swept  the  lot  of  them  out  of  doors.  He  had  en- 
tered into  an  agreement  with  the  cheap  and  nasty  restaurant 
in  High  Street;  and  henceforth  the  staff  would  be  catered 
for  at  starvation  prices  —  so  much,  or  rather  so  little,  per 
head  per  meal. 

This  was  a  fresh  and  a  great  misery  —  short  commons 
bang  on  top  of  mutilated  salaries, —  almost  more  than  one 
could  bear. 

Marsden,  however,  felt  thoroughly  pleased ;  and  was  will- 
ing to  believe  that  by  the  aid  of  his  drastic  remedies  he  had 
cured  the  evil  which  afflicted  him.  For  the  end  of  each  of 
these  two  years  showed  a  substantial  profit. 

It  was  quite  useless  for  Mrs.  Marsden  and  Mears  to 
point  out  the  dangers  that  lay  ahead,  to  hint  that  profits 
now  were  essentially  fictitious,  to  warn  him  that  what  he  had 

225 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

grasped  at  as  income  should  more  properly  be  described  as 
realisation  of  capital,  to  sigh  and  shake  their  heads,  and  to 
plead  for  prompt  renewal  of  diminished  stock.  He  was  too 
well  contented  with  immediate  results.  To-day  is  to-day; 
to-morrow  can  take  care  of  itself.  He  had  given  the  busi- 
ness another  ferocious  squeeze;  and,  under  the  pressure,  it 
had  yielded  what  he  wanted  —  some  cash  to  keep  him 
going. 

The  turf  was  again  engaging  his  attention;  but  he  pur- 
sued his  amusement  in  a  far  less  splendid  manner  than  dur- 
ing those  glorious  days  of  fine  clothes  and  full  pockets  after 
the  honey-moon. 

His  nose  had  thickened,  his  whole  face  had  become 
coarser  and  grosser;  and  flesh  round  his  eyes  showed  an  un- 
healthy puffiness,  and  his  neck  bulged  large  above  an  often 
dirty  collar.  He  wore  a  brown  bowler  hat,  a  weather-proof 
overcoat,  and  heavy  field  boots;  crumpled  newspapers  pro- 
truded from  his  breast,  and  a  glass  in  a  soiled  and  battered 
leather  case  was  negligently  slung  over  his  shoulders.  In 
fact  he  looked  now  like  the  typical  racing  man  of  the  third 
or  fourth  class;  and  directly  he  reached  London  he  mingled 
with  and  was  lost  in  a  crowd  of  exactly  similar  ruffians, 
hurrying  together  to  make  a  train-load  of  disreputability  and 
scoundrelism  for  Hurst  Park  or  Kempton.  But  at  Mailing- 
bridge  he  was  always  noticeable.  He  produced  a  wretched 
impression  in  the  shop  each  time  that,  dressed  for  sport,  he 
passed  through  it;  he  was  its  secret  destroyer  and  its  visible 
disgrace;  his  mere  appearance  was  sufficient  to  send  thou- 
sands of  customers  somewhere  else. 

While  the  cash  lasted,  the  house  saw  little  of  him.  As 
soon  as  the  cash  gave  out,  the  house  again  groaned  under 
his  presence.  Till  he  could  set  his  hands  on  more  cash,  he 
must  be  lodged  and  boarded  by  the  stay-at-home  partner. 

Many  were  the  dark  and  dismal  days  to  be  remembered, 
226 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

if  his  wife  ever  made  a  retrospect  of  two  years'  suffering; 
humiliations,  griefs  —  darkness  with  but  few  gleams  of  light. 
Visits  from  Enid  with  the  child  and  her  nurse  —  an  hour 
rescued  from  a  long  month  —  formed  spots  of  brightness  to 
look  back  at.  But,  for  the  rest,  there  was  black  gloom,  as 
of  moonless,  starless  nights. 

Perhaps  his  most  malignant  cruelty  was  the  driving  away 
of  Yates.  The  doomed  wretch  struggled  so  hard  not  to  be 
torn  from  the  side  of  her  beloved  mistress.  Mrs.  Mars- 
den  knew  that  the  struggle  was  futile,  begged  her  to  go;  but 
still  she  tried  to  stay  —  accepting  insults  and  abuse,  and  only 
piteously  smiling  at  her  persecutor. 

A  cruel,  most  cruel  hour,  when  one  evening  the  shabby 
old  trunks  stood  corded  and  waiting  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
and  Yates  in  her  bonnet  and  shawl  came  into  the  drawing- 
room  to  say  good-bye.  That  was  the  final  smashing  of  a 
home,  for  the  mistress  as  well  as  for  the  maid.  All  that 
made  the  house  endurable  to  Mrs.  Marsden  had  now  gone 
from  it  —  no  sound  of  a  friendly  voice  to  welcome  her  as 
she  came  through  the  door  of  communication;  no  solace 
after  the  exhausting  day;  a  strange  face  to  meet  her, 
unfamiliar,  clumsy  hands  to  wait  upon  her  at  the  lonely 
supper. 

She  never  really  learned  to  know  the  faces  of  her  new 
servants.  They  changed  so  often.  No  servant  would  stop 
with  them  for  long.  The  work  was  heavier  than  it  used 
to  be;  after  Yates  had  gone  the  mistress  could  not  afford  to 
keep  a  maid-housekeeper;  in  these  hard  times  a  cook  and  a 
housemaid  must  suffice  for  the  establishment.  Departing 
servants  said  the  mistress  gave  little  trouble;  she  was  pa- 
tient and  kind ;  they  had  no  fault  to  find  with  her  —  but 
the  master  was  "  a  fair  terror." 

Yet  he  had  promised,  when  consummating  the  sacrifice  of 
YateSj  that  he  would  refrain  from  again  upsetting  the  do- 

227 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

mestic  arrangements.  But  what  promises  would  he  not 
make?  What  promise  had  he  ever  failed  to  break? 

Once  he  promised  not  to  parade  his  infidelity  in  Mailing- 
bridge.  This  was  after  the  scandal  he  had  caused  by  taking 
a  set  of  bachelor  rooms  in  the  new  flats  near  the  railway 
station,  and  bringing  down  a  London  woman  to  occupy 
them  from  Saturdays  to  Mondays.  Every  Sunday  he  made 
himself  conspicuous  by  flaunting  about  the  town  with  this 
brazen  creature. 

Probably  he  was  tired  of  his  Sabbath  promenades  by  the 
time  that  Mrs.  Marsden  resolutely  declared  that,  for  the 
sake  of  the  business  as  well  as  for  her  own  sake,  she  would 
not  support  so  glaring  an  outrage.  Anyhow  he  said  it 
should  cease,  and  swore  that  he  would  for  the  future  be 
more  circumspect. 

But  he  pretended  to  believe  that  his  wife  had  given  him 
a  letter  of  license,  full  authority  to  resume  the  habits  of 
bachelorhood,  the  freedom  of  manners  that  naturally  ac- 
companies a  release  from  the  closer  bonds  of  the  marriage 
state.  He  had  never  for  a  moment  thought  she  would  mind ; 
but  he  vowed  that  what  she  was  pleased  to  consider  of- 
fensive and  derogatory  to  the  reputation  of  herself  and  the 
shop  should  never  occur  again. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  soon  known  to  everybody  but  Mrs. 
Marsden  that  he  was  committing  more  local  breaches  of 
etiquette.  On  idle  evenings  he  would  prowl  about  the 
streets,  accosting  servant  girls  and  shop  girls,  loitering  at 
corners,  and  laughing  and  chaffing  with  any  little  sluts  who 
consented  to  entertain  his  badinage.  Sense  of  shame  and  the 
last  remembrances  of  shop-propriety  seemed  to  be  deserting 
him.  Soon  his  own  young  ladies  met  him  talking  to  the 
girls  that  belonged  to  his  great  trade  rival.  That  tow- 
haired  huzzy  who  regularly  came  mincing  up  St.  Saviour's 
Court  to  wait  for  the  guv'nor,  was  —  and  the  thing  seemed 

228 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

so  monstrous  that  it  was  recorded  in  an  awed  whisper  — 
neither  more  nor  less  than  a  ribbon  girl  from  Bence  si 

Then,  after  a  little  while,  the  governor  told  Mears  that  he 
had  engaged  a  new  hand  for  the  upper  floor.  She  would 
come  in  on  Monday  morning,  and  Miss  Woolfrey  had  better 
put  her  into  China  and  Glass,  and  see  how  she  got  on  there. 
She  was  good  at  anything,  and  would  soon  pick  up  the  hang 
of  everything. 

But  what  a  whisper  ran  round  the  shop  when  the  new- 
comer was  seen  by  the  horror-struck  assistants!  The  tow- 
haired  minx  from  over  the  road! 

It  was  an  open  and  egregious  scandal,  shocking  every- 
body except  the  unsuspecting  female  partner.  The  shop 
spoke  of  the  new  girl  as  "  Miss  Bence."  The  governor  was 
always  trotting  upstairs  to  murmur  and  chuckle  with  Miss 
Bence.  Someone  saw  him  pinching  Miss  Bence's  ear  — 
and  so  on.  It  was  another  outrage  that  could  not  be  per- 
mitted to  continue. 

Sadly  and  heavily  old  Mears  told  Mrs.  Marsden  all 
about  it. 

The  disclosure  threw  her  into  a  quite  unusual  agitation. 
She  seemed  to  be  more  terrified  than  disgusted.  It  was  as 
if,  in  spite  of  all  attempts  to  keep  a  bold  front  before 
the  world,  the  mere  name  of  their  remorseless  and  over- 
whelming rival  now  had  power  to  set  her  apprehensively 
trembling. 

"  I  don't  want  any  communications  passing  between 
Bence's  and  us  "  —  And  she  showed  that  this  idea  was  suffi- 
cient in  itself  to  frighten  her.  "  The  girl  may  be  a  spy. 
She  may  go  back  there." 

"  She  won't  do  that,"  said  Mears.  "  She  was  dismissed 
for  misconduct." 

Mrs.  Marsden  seemed  relieved  rather  than  shocked  by 
hearing  this. 

229 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Besides,"  added  Mears,  "  Bence  never  takes  anyone 
back." 

"  I  don't  want  people  passing  backwards  and  forwards  — 
on  any  pretext.  We  mustn't  allow  communications.  .  .  . 
Where  is  Mr.  Marsden  ?  I  must  speak  to  Mr.  Marsden." 

There  was  a  terrific  scene  behind  the  glass,  with  Marsden, 
his  wife,  and  Mears  shut  in  together.  Presently  the 
cashier  was  summoned;  books  were  fetched;  accounts  were 
examined.  That  afternoon  Mrs.  Marsden  went  round  to 
the  bank;  and  next  day  the  tow-haired  girl  had  disappeared. 

In  the  evening  Mr.  Marsden  left  Mallingbridge.  It  was 
understood  that  he  had  gone  to  Monte  Carlo.  He  would 
not  be  back  for  a  fortnight  at  least. 

Mears  had  said  that  Bence  never  allowed  a  discharged 
servant  to  return  to  him,  and  it  was  equally  true  that  he 
never  gave  back  a  stolen  customer.  Bence's  was  the  "  some- 
where else  "  to  which  Thompson  &  Marsden's  customers  had 
nearly  all  repaired;  and  of  the  dozens,  the  hundreds,  who, 
throwing  off  their  old  allegiance,  crossed  the  road  to  the 
opposite  pavement,  not  one  was  ever  seen  again. 

Evidently  the  claims  of  those  two  bad  brothers  had  some- 
how been  satisfied.  The  leak  was  stopped;  Bence  had 
weathered  the  storm,  and  was  going  full  speed  ahead. 

If  there  was  any  truth  in  the  last  story  of  the  desperate 
plight  to  which  he  had  been  reduced,  the  crisis  had  long 
since  passed  and  he  had  emerged  from  his  difficulties  stronger 
than  ever.  If  one  could  attach  any  importance  to  the  firm 
belief  of  that  sagacious  solicitor,  Mr.  Prentice,  Bence  must 
have  found  the  money  necessary  to  save  him.  Either  he  had 
discovered  a  backer,  or  he  had  never  needed  one.  Who 
could  say  what  was  true  or  false  in  this  connection?  Some- 
times of  course  a  very  little  money  boldly  hazarded  will  de- 
cide the  fate  of  the  very  largest  enterprise;  but  in  the  busi- 

230 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

ness  world  it  is  precisely  at  such  times  that  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  meet  with  anyone  shrewd  enough  and  coura- 
geous enough  to  risk  a  small  loan  on  the  off  chance  of  making 
a  splendid  investment.  Therefore  Bence  had  been  lucky, 
or  had  not  really  wanted  luck. 

He  was  safe  now  —  obviously,  too  obviously  safe,  with 
money  behind  him  and  success  before  him.  Employees  at 
Thompson  &  Marsden's,  with  little  else  to  do,  watched  him 
arrive  of  a  morning.  His  twelve-year-old  daughter  drove 
him  to  business  in  a  pretty  basket  car  with  a  high-stepping, 
long-tailed  pony;  a  smart  groom  who  had  been  waiting  on 
the  pavement  ascended  the  car  in  the  place  of  the  happy 
father,  and  Mr.  Archibald  stood  smiling  and  kissing  the 
tips  of  his  fingers  as  the  car  drove  away.  It  was  a  symbol 
of  his  greatness:  a  triumphal  car.  He  himself  was  neat  and 
natty,  perfumed  and  oiled,  smelling  of  success  —  with  a 
flower  in  his  coat,  new  wash-leather  gloves  on  his  in- 
dustrious hands  and  a  shining  topper  upon  his  clever  bald 
head. 

On  window-dressing  days  he  was  up  and  down  the  street 
half  the  morning.  He  stood  with  his  back  to  Thompson's, 
studying  the  glorious  effect  of  his  displays ;  ran  quickly  from 
window  to  window,  and  made  imperative  signs  to  those 
within.  He  put  his  head  one  side,  twirled  his  moustaches, 
rubbed  his  small  face  with  a  rapidly  moving  paw  —  and 
looked  now  like  a  sleek,  well-fed  little  rat  who  meant  to 
nibble  away  all  the  cake  that  the  town  of  Mallingbridge 
could  provide. 

And  the  windows  when  done  —  who  could  resist  them  ? 
Is  it  straw  hats  for  ladies?  Do  you  wish  one  of  the  new 
fashionable  Leghorns?  .  .  .  Two  windows  have  turned 
yellow;  from  ceiling  to  floor  nothing  but  the  finest  straw; 
here  are  more  Leghorns  than  you  would  expect  to  see  at  a 
big  London  warehouse,  more  than  an  ignorant  person  would 

231 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

have  supposed  that  the  city  of  Leghorn  could  manufacture  in 
a  year.  .  .  .  See!  Already  his  Leghorns  have  caught 
the  eye  of  the  public;  young  women  are  bustling;  nurse- 
maids with  their  perambulators  have  stopped  —  there  is  a 
block  on  the  pavement,  and  a  constable  has  courteously  re- 
quested people  to  keep  moving. 

There  again,  the  constable  is  busy  outside  another  win- 
dow. Do  you  wish  a  blouse  of  the  prevailing  tint  ?  Mauve 
blouses,  nothing  except  mauve,  all  blouses,  a  window  full  of 
them  —  hardly  to  be  described  as  for  sale,  almost  literally 
to  be  given  away. 

On  advertised  bargain-days  four  policemen  are  required  to 
regulate  the  traffic;  for  Bence  opens  his  doors  and  locks 
them  —  you  must  wait  your  turn  to  get  inside.  But  on  all 
days  there  is  more  or  less  of  a  crowd  outside  and  inside  the 
triumphant  shop. 

At  eleven  A.  M.  the  first  batch  of  red  carts  go  whirling 
away,  round  the  town  and  far  out  on  the  country  roads. 
This  is  what  Bence  calls  his  mid-day  delivery.  There  will 
be  two  more  deliveries  before  the  day  is  done. 

If  the  afternoon  proves  foggy  and  dull,  there  comes  a 
tremendous  lightning  flash  along  the  extended  frontage  of 
Bence;  and  for  a  moment  you  are  blinded,  as  you  look  to- 
wards his  windows.  Bence  has  turned  on  the  electric.  He 
makes  no  appointed  hour  for  lighting  up.  He  will  have 
light  whenever  he  desires  it.  With  his  outside  arcs  and  his 
inside  incandescents  he  makes  a  light  strong  enough  to  throw 
the  shadows  of  Thompson  &  Marsden's  window  columns 
straight  backward  across  the  floor,  even  when  their  poor 
lamps  are  burning  at  their  brightest. 

And  no  longer  can  one  say  that  all  the  goods  of  Bence  arc 
rubbish.  High-class  expensive  articles  are  mingled  with  the 
cheap  trash;  solidity  and  lasting  value  have  now  a  place  in 
his  programme ;  he  caters  for  the  large  country  house  as  well 

232 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

as  for  the  restricted  villa;  he  invites  patronage  from  prince 
and  peasant:  it  is  his  aim  to  be  a  universal  provider. 

Truly  it  was  an  appalling  competition;  and  if  it  was 
dangerous  to  so  big  a  rival  as  Thompson's,  it  was  deadly  to 
all  the  lesser  powers.  No  small  shop  could  live  beside 
Bence;  and  it  seemed  that  he  could  kill  even  at  a  consider- 
able distance. 

After  the  collapse  of  the  sadler  and  the  bookseller,  their 
next-door  neighbour,  the  ironmonger,  failed;  and  the  shell 
of  him  Bence  also  swallowed.  The  man  now  next  to  Bence 
was  Mr.  Bennett,  the  old-established  butcher;  beyond  him 
was  Mr.  Adcock,  the  dispensing  chemist,  and  beyond  him 
there  were  the  baker  and  the  auctioneer.  Then  came  Mr. 
Newall,  the  greengrocer,  whose  shop  faced  the  far  corner 
of  Thompson's. 

One  morning  the  greengrocer  did  not  take  down  his 
shutters.  He  had  flitted  in  the  night. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Mears,  looking  sadly  at  the  shop,  "  it's 
fortunate  it  isn't  alongside  of  Bence,  or  I  suppose  he'd  grab 
that  too." 

Next  day  workmen  erected  a  hoarding  outside  the  derelict 
shop.  Soon  the  boards  were  painted  white,  and  curious 
saunterers  lingered  to  read  the  black-letterec  notice. 

"  These  premises  are  being  fitted,  regardless  of 
expense,  in  a  thoroughly  up-to-date  manner. 
"  They  will  shortly  be  opened  again. 
"But  as  what? 
"  Why,  just  what  you  want" 

11  That's  a  catchpenny  vulgar  dodge,"  said  Mears,  "  if 
ever  I  saw  one." 

"  I  wonder  what  it  is  to  be,"  said  Miss  Woolfrey.  "  I 
guess  sweetstuff.  It  can't  be  a  shooting-gallery.  It  isn't 
deep  enough." 

233 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

In  a  few  weeks  all  knew  what  it  was.  Mr.  Archibald 
himself  came  to  see  the  last  boards  of  the  hoarding  removed, 
and  to  watch  the  first  customers  troop  into  Bence's  Fruit  & 
Vegetable  Market! 

But  for  a  gap  of  seventy  feet  made  by  four  ancient  traders, 
Bence  now  faced  Marsden  &  Thompson  for  its  whole  length 
from  end  to  end.  Bence  was  irresistible,  overpowering, 
deadly.  The  hearts  of  many  people  opposite  sank  into  their 
boots. 


XXI 

LATE  one  evening,  when  Marsden  was  taking  what  he 
called  his  night-cap  in  the  drawing-room,  he  began  to  ask 
questions  about  the  Sheraton  desk  and  cabinets. 

"  Those  things  are  not  at  all  bad  —  but  they  aren't 
genuine,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  The  desk  is  genuine,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden ;  "  but  the 
other  things  are  modern." 

"  They  are  uncommonly  good  imitations,"  said  Marsden ; 
and  he  knelt  in  front  of  one  of  the  cabinets  and  studied  it 
carefully.  "  This  is  an  excellently  made  piece  —  tip- top 
workmanship.  Why,  it  must  be  worth  twenty  or  thirty 
guineas." 

"  Yes,  it  cost  something  like  that." 

"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"  It  came  out  of  the  shop." 

"  Ah.  Exactly  what  I  supposed ;  "  and  he  got  up  from 
his  knees,  and  stood  looking  at  her  thoughtfully.  "  Out  of 
the  shop.  Just  so.  ...  I  must  think  this  out." 

But  his  train  of  thought  was  interrupted  by  a  timid  knock 
at  the  door.  It  was  their  last  new  housemaid,  come  to 
ask  if  the  master  and  the  mistress  required  anything  further 
to-night.  She  remained  on  the  threshold,  breathing  hard, 
and  staring  shyly,  while  she  waited  for  an  answer  —  a 
bouncing,  apple-cheeked,  country  bumpkin  of  a  girl,  who  had 
accepted  very  modest  wages  for  this  her  first  place. 

"  No,"  said  Marsden  shortly,  "  I  don't  want  anything 
more  —  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Susan,  sir." 

16  235 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  All  right.     Then  shut  the  door,  Susan." 

"  Good  night,  Susan,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  kindly. 

"  Where  did  you  pick  her  up?  "  asked  Marsden,  when  the 
girl  had  gone.  "  She's  healthy  enough  and  plump  enough 
—  but  she  looks  half-baked." 

"  She  will  do  very  well,  if  you  give  her  time  to  learn." 

"  Oh,  Til  let  her  learn,  if  you  can  teach  her.  .  .  . 
But  what  was  I  saying?  Oh,  yes  —  about  the  furniture!  " 

Then  he  walked  round  the  room,  pointing  at  different 
things,  and  continuing  his  questions. 

"  Did  this  come  out  of  the  shop  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  this?  .  .  .  And  those  chairs?  .  .  .  And 
the  sofa?" 

She  did  not  understand  why  he  asked.  But  he  soon  ex- 
plained himself.  He  said  that  all  this  furniture  was  taken 
out  of  the  shop,  and  it  therefore  belonged  to  the  firm  —  or 
at  any  rate  could  not  be  considered  as  her  private  property. 

"A  partnership  is  a  partnership,"  he  added  sententiously. 

"  But  it  was  ages  before  the  partnership.  And  all  the 
things  were  paid  for  by  me." 

"  No,  not  paid  for,"  he  said  quickly.  "  Not  paid  for  in 
cash  —  just  a  matter  of  writing  down  a  debit  somewhere 
and  a  credit  somewhere  else,  and  saying  it  was  accounted  for. 
But  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  shop,  that's  a  bogus  trans- 
action." 

"How  absurd!" 

"  No,  not  absurd  —  common  sense.  The  shop  never  got 
a  penny  profit,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  — " 

"  Oh,  I  won't  dispute  it  with  you.  What  is  it  that  you 
want  done?  " 

"  I  want  the  right  thing  to  be  done,"  he  replied  slowly, 
as  if  deliberating  on  a  knotty  point.  "  And  it  isn't  easy  to 
say  off-hand  what  that  is." 

236 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  send  the  things  back  into  the  de- 
partment ?  " 

"  No.  .  .  .  No,  the  time  has  passed  for  doing  that. 
It  would  muddle  the  accounts.  Come  into  the  dining-room, 
and  show  me  the  shop  things  in  there." 

She  obeyed  him;  and  then  he  asked  if  there  were  any 
shop  things  upstairs. 

"  Yes,  several." 

"  Well,  you  can  show  me  those  to-morrow  morning. 
.  .  .  I  begin  to  see  my  way.  Yes,  I  think  I  see  now 
what's  fair  and  proper." 

"Do  you?" 

He  said  emphatically  that  in  justice  and  equity  he  pos- 
sessed a  half  share  of  all  goods  taken  out  of  his  shop,  no 
matter  how  long  ago.  And  he  insisted  on  having  his  share. 
He  would  obtain  a  valuation  of  the  goods,  and  Mrs.  Mars- 
den  could  pay  him  cash  for  half  the  amount,  and  retain  the 
goods.  Or  he  would  send  the  goods  to  London  and  sell 
them  by  auction;  and  they  would  each  take  half  the  pro- 
ceeds. 

Mrs.  Marsden  chose  the  second  method  of  dealing  with 
the  problem. 

"All  right,"  said  Marsden.  "So  be  it.  I  dare  say 
they'll  fetch  a  tidy  sum  —  and  it's  share  and  share  alike, 
of  course,  for  the  two  of  us." 

Two  days  after  this  the  house  was  stripped  of  nearly  all 
that  had  given  it  an  air  of  opulent  comfort  and  decorative 
luxury.  Mrs.  Marsden  went  to  the  department  of  the  firm, 
and  bought  the  cheapest  bedroom  things  she  could  find  to 
fill  the  blank  spaces  and  ugly  gaps  upstairs,  and  paid  for 
everything  with  her  private  purse. 

In  a  fortnight  the  furniture  auctioneers  wrote  to  inform 
Mr.  Marsden  that  the  goods  under  the  hammer  had  brought 
the  respectable  sum  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  pounds.  Ac- 

237 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

count  for  commission,  etc.,  with  cheque  to  balance,  should 
follow  shortly.  And  before  long  he  duly  received  the 
balancing  cheque. 

But  the  loss  of  the  cabinets  and  sofas  made  the  living 
rooms  seem  bare  and  forlorn.  The  house  and  the  shop  had 
become  alike :  in  each  one  could  now  see  the  empty,  cheerless 
aspect  of  impending  ruin. 

Enid,  when  next  she  brought  her  child  to  call  on  granny, 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  distress. 

"  Mother !  What  has  happened  ?  Where  has  everything 
gone?" 

"  To  London  — -  to  be  sold." 

"  Oh,  uother.     Has  he  obliged  you  to  do  this?" 

"  Yes." 

The  barrier  of  reserve  so  long  maintained  by  Mrs.  Mars- 
den  had  worn  very  thin.  It  gave  small  shelter  now;  and 
the  brave  defender  seemed  to  be  growing  careless  of  exposure. 
And  Enid  too  was  losing  the  power  to  protect  herself  from 
pity  and  commiseration.  The  misery  caused  by  both  hus- 
bands could  not  much  longer  be  concealed.  Yet  Enid's 
state  was  surely  a  happy  one,  when  compared  with  the  pre- 
vailing gloom  in  which  her  mother  vainly  laboured.  Enid 
had  a  child  to  console  her. 

Weeks  passed ;  but  Marsden  said  nothing  of  the  "  share 
and  share  alike  "  settlement  that  was  to  clear  up  that  little 
difficulty  of  the  furniture.  At  last  his  wife  asked  him  if  he 
had  heard  from  the  auctioneers. 

"Oh,  yes.  Didn't  I  tell  you?  The  things  went  pretty 
well." 

"What  did  they  bring?" 

"  Oh,  about  a  hundred  quid." 

"  Then  when  may  I  have  my  share  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  shall  have  your  share  all  right  —  but  you  can't 
have  it  now." 

238 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Dick,  have  you  spent  it  —  have  you  spent  what  belonged 
tome?" 

"  Who  says  I  have  spent  it  ?  "  And  he  turned  on  her 
angrily.  "  If  it  isn't  convenient  to  me  to  square  up  at  the 
moment,  why  can't  you  wait?  What  does  it  matter  to  you 
when  you  get  it?  Why  should  you  pretend  to  be  in  such 
a  deuce  of  a  hurry?  " 

This  again  was  late  at  night.  They  were  alone  together 
in  the  dismantled  drawing-room. 

"  Dick,"  she  said  quietly  but  resolutely,  "  I  must  have 
my  share." 

"  Then  you'll  jolly  well  wait  for  it.  ...  Look 
here.  Shut  up.  I'm  not  going  to  be  nagged  at.  Be 
damned  to  your  share.  You  don't  want  it." 

"  Yes,  I  do  want  it  —  I  have  relied  on  it." 

"  Oh,  you're  all  right.  You've  plenty  of  money  stowed 
away  somewhere." 

"  On  my  honour,  I  have  no  money  available." 

"  Available !  That's  a  good  word.  That  means  funds 
that  you  don't  intend  to  touch.  Prices  on  change  are 
down,  are  they?  —  and  you  don't  care  to  realise  just 
now?" 

She  looked  at  him  steadily  and  unflinchingly.  Her  eye- 
brows were  contracted ;  her  face  had  hardened. 

"  Dick,  this  isn't  fair.  It  is  something  that  I  can't  al- 
low," and  she  spoke  slowly  and  significantly.  "  Please  pull 
yourself  together.  You  can't  go  on  doing  things  of  this 
sort.  They  are  dangerous." 

"  Will  you  shut  up,  and  stop  nagging?  " 

It  was  by  no  means  the  first  time  that  he  had  stuck  to 
money  when  it  should  have  passed  through  his  hands  to  hers. 
Indeed  in  all  their  private  transactions,  whenever  a  chance 
offered,  he  had  promptly  cheated  her.  But  during  the  last 
six  months  it  had  come  to  her  knowledge  that  he  was  not 

239 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

confining  his  trickery  to  transactions  which  could  be  con- 
sidered as  outside  the  business. 

"  Dick,  I  must  go  on.  It  is  for  your  sake  as  well  as 
mine.  There  is  a  principle  at  stake." 

"Rot." 

"  What  you  are  doing  is  dishonest.  It  is  embezzlement !  " 
and  she  turned  from  him,  and  looked  at  the  empty  fire- 
place. 

With  an  oath  he  seized  her  arm,  and  swung  her  round 
till  she  faced  him  again. 

"  Take  that  back  —  or  you'll  be  sorry  for  it.  Do  you 
dare  to  say  that  word  again?  Now  we'll  see."  Holding 
her  with  one  hand,  he  swayed  her  to  and  fro,  as  if  to  force 
her  down  to  her  knees;  and  his  other  hand  was  raised  threat- 
eningly on  a  level  with  her  face. 

"  Are  you  going  to  strike  me  ?  "  And  she  looked  at  him 
with  still  unflinching  eyes.  "  Why  don't  you  do  it  ?  Why 
are  you  hesitating?  Oh,  my  God  —  it  only  wanted  this  to 
justify  everything." 

Her  courage  seemed  to  increase  his  hesitation.  He  low- 
ered the  threatening  hand,  but  continued  to  hold  her  tightly. 

"  Say  what  you  mean.     Out  with  it." 

"  Dick,  you  know  very  well  what  I  mean.  ...  It 
must  be  stopped." 

"  What  must  be  stopped  ?  " 

"  Your  dangerous  irregularities." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about.  Someone  has 
been  telling  you  a  pack  of  lies.  You're  ready  to  believe  any 
lie  against  me/' 

"  There  was  a  cheque  of  the  firm  —  made  out  to  bearer  — 
on  the  third  of  last  month." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

"  No  more  did  I.  They  sent  for  me  to  the  bank  —  to 
look  at  the  signatures  and  the  initials." 

240 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Well?" 

"  I  told  them  it  was  all  right." 

"Well,  what  about  it?" 

"  There  was  the  hundred  pounds  that  was  to  be  paid 
Osborn  &  Gibbs  on  account  —  to  keep  them  quiet.  It  was 
written  off  in  the  books  —  you  showed  their  acknowledg- 
ment for  it.  .  .  .  But  what's  the  use  of  going  on? 
Dick,  pull  yourself  together.  I  hold  the  proof  of  your 
folly." 

He  had  let  her  go,  and  was  walking  about  the  room  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets.  When  he  spoke  again,  it  was  sul- 
lenly and  grumblingly. 

"  I  know  nothing  whatever  about  it.  I  can  keep  accounts 
in  my  head  just  as  well  as  in  the  books.  .  .  .  If  I  seem 
unbusinesslike  —  it  is  because  I'm  called  away  so  often;  and 
those  fools  don't  understand  my  system.  .  .  .  I  go  for 
facts,  and  don't  bother  about  all  the  fuss  of  book-keeping  — 
which  is  generally  in  a  muddle  whenever  I  ask  for  plain 
statements.  .  .  .  No,  you've  got  on  to  a  wrong  track. 
But  I'll  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  matter  to-morrow  —  or 
the  day  after.  I'm  busy  with  other  things  to-morrow." 

"  Never  mind  what's  past,  Dick;  but  go  into  matters  for 
the  future." 

"  All  right.  Then  say  no  more.  Don't  nag  me.  .  .  . 
And  look  here.  Of  course  I  fully  intend  to  pay  you  your 
share.  I  admit  the  debt.  I  owe  you  fifty  pounds." 

He  had  been  cowed  for  a  few  moments;  but  now  he  was 
recovering  his  angry  bluster. 

"  That's  enough,"  he  went  on.  "  I'll  settle  as  soon  as  I 
can.  But,  upon  my  word,  you  are  turning  into  a  harpy  for 
ready  money.  What  have  you  done  with  all  your  own? 
How  have  you  dribbled  it  away  —  and  let  yourself  get  so 
low  that  you  have  to  come  howling  for  a  beggarly  fifty 
pounds?  " 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mrs.  Marsden  raised  her  hands  to  her  forehead,  with  a 
gesture  that  he  might  interpret  as  expressive  of  hopeless  de- 
spair; but  she  did  not  answer  him  in  words. 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  he  growled,  to  himself  rather  than  to 
her.  "The  old  explanation,  I  suppose.  I'm  to  be  the 
scapegoat!  But  I  know  jolly  well  where  your  money  has 
gone.  Enid  and  that  squalling  brat  have  pretty  near  cleared 
you  out.  Nothing's  too  much  for  Enid  to  ask.  ...  If 
I  wasn't  a  fool,  I  should  forbid  her  the  house.  .  .  .  And 
I  will  too,  if  you  drive  me  to  it." 

It  maddened  him  to  think  of  all  the  sovereigns  that  might 
have  chinked  in  his  pocket,  if  Enid  had  not  rapaciously 
intervened. 

But  in  fact  Mrs.  Marsden  had  given  her  daughter  no 
money.  And  this  was  not  because  Enid  had  refrained  from 
asking  for  it.  Compelled  to  do  so  by  Kenion,  she  had 
more  than  once  reluctantly  sued  for  substantial  assistance. 

"  Enid  dear,  don't  ask  me  again.     Truly,  it  is  impossible." 

Mrs.  Marsden  stood  firm  in  the  attitude  that  she  had 
adopted  when  pestered  by  old  Mrs.  Kenion  at  the  christen- 
ing. Of  course  she  gave  presents  to  little  Jane.  The 
trifling  aid  that  a  young  mother  needs  in  rearing  a  beloved 
child  Enid  might  be  sure  of  obtaining;  but  the  source  of 
supply  for  a  husband's  selfish  extravagance  had  run  dry. 

"  Enid,  my  darling,  I  can't  do  it  -—  I  simply  cant.  He 
should  not  send  you  to  me.  I  told  his  mother  that  it  was 
useless  to  expect  more  from  me." 

Enid  hugged  Mrs.  Marsden,  said  she  felt  a  wretch, 
begged  for  forgiveness;  but  soon  she  had  to  confess  that 
Charles  bore  these  rebuffs  very  badly,  and  that  it  would  be 
better  for  Mrs.  Marsden  never  to  come  any  more  to  the 
farmhouse.  If  she  came,  Charles  might  insult  her. 

And  now  Richard  had  hinted  that  he  would  not  allow 
Enid  to  come  to  St.  Saviour's  Court.  It  seemed  that  soon 

242 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

the  mother  and  daughter  would  be  able  to  meet  only  by 
stealth  and  on  rare  occasions. 

If  the  barrier  was  shattered  and  broken  in  front  of  Enid, 
it  was  completely  down  between  Mrs.  Marsden  and  Mr. 
Prentice.  No  further  pretence  was  possible  to  either  of 
them:  the  strenuous  pressure  of  open  facts  had  forced  both 
to  speak  more  or  less  plainly  when  they  spoke  of  Marsden. 

Although  Marsden  always  abused  the  solicitor  behind  his 
back,  he  ran  to  him  for  help  every  time  he  got  into  a  scrape; 
and  during  the  last  year  one  might  almost  say  that  he  had 
kept  Mr.  Prentice  busily  employed.  A  horrid  mess  with 
London  book-makers;  two  rows  with  the  railway  company, 
about  cards  in  a  third-class  carriage,  and  no  ticket  in  a  first- 
class  carriage;  a  fracas  with  the  billiard-marker  at  his  club 
—  one  after  another,  stupid  and  disgraceful  scrapes.  Mr. 
Prentice,  doing  his  best  for  the  culprit,  each  time  found  it 
necessary  to  obtain  Mrs.  Marsden's  instructions,  and  to  put 
things  before  her  plainly. 

The  club  committee  had  eventually  desired  their  obstreper- 
ous member  to  forward  a  resignation;  and,  on  his  refusal  to 
do  so,  had  removed  his  name  from  their  list.  Mr.  Mars- 
den, who  in  his  boastful  pride  once  considered  himself  eligible 
for  the  select  company  of  the  County  gentlemen,  had  thus 
been  ignominiously  expelled  from  the  large  society  of  petty 
tradesmen,  clerks,  tag,  rag,  and  bobtail,  known  as  the  Mal- 
lingbridge  Conservative. 

At  last,  after  a  discussion  concerning  one  of  these  scrapes, 
Mr.  Prentice  abandoned  the  slightest  shadow  of  pretence, 
and  gave  his  old  client  the  plainest  conceivable  advice. 

"  Screw  yourself  up  to  strong  measures,"  said  Mr.  Pren- 
tice, "  and  get  rid  of  him." 

"  How  could  I  —  even  if  I  were  willing?  " 

"  Go  for  a  divorce." 

"  I  shouldn't  be  given  one." 
243 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  I  think  you  would." 

They  were  in  Mr.  Prentice's  room  —  the  fine  panelled 
room  with  the  two  tall  Queen  Anne  windows,  and  the 
pleasant  view  up  Hill  Street,  and  through  the  side  street 
into  Trinity  Square.  Mrs.  Marsden  sat  facing  the  light, 
her  back  towards  the  big  safe  and  the  racks  of  tin  boxes; 
and  Mr.  Prentice,  seated  by  his  table,  looked  at  her  gravely 
and  watched  her  changing  expression  while  he  spoke. 

"  I  think  that  you  would  obtain  your  divorce,"  he  re- 
peated. 

Then  he  got  up,  and  opened  and  closed  the  door.  The 
passage  to  the  clerks'  office  was  empty.  He  came  back  to 
his  table,  and  sat  down  again. 

"  Don't  give  him  any  more  chances.  Take  it  from  me  — 
he'll  never  reform.  Get  rid  of  him  now." 

"  Oh  no  —  quite  impossible." 

"  I  had  a  talk  the  other  day  with  Yates,"  said  Mr.  Pren- 
tice quietly.  "  Yates  is  prepared  to  give  evidence  that  he 
knocked  you  about." 

"  But  it's  not  true,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  hotly. 

The  blood  rose  to  her  cheeks,  and  her  lips  trembled;  but 
Mr.  Prentice  had  ceased  to  watch  her  face.  He  was  playing 
with  an  inkless  pen  and  some  white  blotting-paper. 

"  Yates  is  ready  to  go  into  the  box  and  swear  it." 

"  Then  she  would  be  swearing  an  untruth." 

"Yates  would  be  a  very  good  witness.  Really  I  don't 
see  how  anybody  could  shake  her.  ...  I  asked  her  a 
few  questions.  .  .  .  She  impressed  me  as  being  just  the 
right  sort  of  witness." 

"  Please  don't  say  any  more." 

"  Honestly,  I  believe  we  should  pull  it  off.  And  why 
not?  If  ever  a  woman  deserved — " 

But  Mrs.  Marsden  would  hear  no  more  of  this  kind  of 
advice. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  I  see  no  reason  against  it,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  per- 
sisting. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  sadly. 

"  It's  the  only  thing  to  do." 

"You  don't  understand  me."  And  as  she  said  it,  there 
was  dignity  as  well  as  sadness  in  her  voice.  "  Even  if  it 
were  all  easy  and  straightforward,  I  could  never  consent  to 
allow  the  story  of  my  married  life  to  be  told  in  Court  —  to 
the  public.  I  could  not  bear  it.  I  simply  could  not  bear 
the  shame  of  it." 

"  Oh !  .  .  .  Well,  it  would  be  like  having  a  tooth 
out.  Soon  over." 

"  But  that  is  only  one  reason.     There  are  many  others." 

"Are  there?" 

"  You  shouldn't  —  you  mustn't  assume  that  he  only  is 
to  blame.  There  are  faults  on  both  sides.  And  I  have 
this  on  my  conscience  —  that  perhaps  he  would  have  done 
very  well,  if  I  hadn't  married  him." 

"  My  dear  —  forgive  my  saying  so  —  that  is  magnani- 
mous, but  nonsense." 

"  No,"  she  said  firmly,  "  it  is  the  truth.  He  had  some 
good  qualities.  He  was  a  worker.  Idleness  —  with  more 
money  than  he  was  accustomed  to  —  brought  temptations;  — 
and  he  was  very  young.  If  he  had  remained  poor,  he  might 
have  developed  into  a  better  man." 

"  I  won't  contradict  you.  .  .  .  Only  it  isn't  what  he 
might  have  developed  into,  but  what  he  has  developed  into; 
and  what  fresh  developments  we  can  reasonably  expect. 
.  .  .  I  see  no  hope.  Really,  I  must  say  it.  I  believe, 
as  sure  as  I  sit  here,  that  he'll  eat  you  up  —  he'll  ruin  you, 
if  you  let  him  —  he'll  land  you  in  the  workhouse  before 
you've  done  with  him.  That's  why  I  say,  get  rid  of  him  — 
at  all  costs." 

But  Mrs.  Marsden  only  shook  her  head  sadly  and  wearily. 
245 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mr.  Prentice  stood  at  his  window,  looking  down  into  the 
street,  and  mournfully  watching  her  as  she  walked  away. 

She  was  dressed  in  black  —  she  who  had  been  so  fond  of 
bright  colours  never  wore  anything  but  black  now;  and  the 
black  was  growing  shabby  and  rusty.  She  seemed  taller, 
now  that  she  had  become  so  much  thinner;  the  grey  hair 
at  the  sides  of  her  forehead  and  the  unfashionable  bonnet 
tied  with  ribbons  under  her  chin  made  her  appear  old;  the 
florid  complexion  had  changed  to  a  dull  white  —  as  she 
turned  her  face,  and  hurried  across  the  road,  he  thought 
that  it  showed  almost  a  ghostly  whiteness.  And  truly  she 
was  the  ghost  of  the  prosperous,  radiant,  richly-clothed 
woman  that  he  remembered. 

She  had  been  so  strong,  and  now  she  had  become  so 
weak  —  so  pitiably  weak;  with  a  weakness  that  rendered  it 
impossible  to  save  her.  His  heart  ached  as  he  thought  of 
her  weakness. 

She  would  be  eaten  up  —  soul  and  body.  Secret  informa- 
tion made  him  aware  that  she  had  sold  the  various  stocks 
that  she  held  at  her  marriage.  The  manager  of  the  bank 
had  regretfully  told  him  so,  at  a  meeting  of  the  Masonic 
lodge  —  a  secret  between  tried  friends  and  trusted  Masons, 
to  go  no  further.  She  had  employed  the  bank  to  sell  these 
securities  for  her.  In  the  old  days  she  would  have  come  to 
him  for  advice,  and  he  would  have  sent  the  order  direct  to 
the  stock-brokers;  but  now  she  was  weakly  afraid  of  his 
knowing  anything  about  her  suicidal  transactions. 

He  was  looking  out  from  the  same  window  one  afternoon 
a  few  weeks  later,  and  he  saw  something  that  really  horrified 
him.  He  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes. 

Mrs.  Marsden  had  gone  swiftly  down  the  side  street,  and 
had  vanished  through  the  front  door  of  those  shady,  wicked 
solicitors,  Hyde  &  Collins. 

He  felt  so  greatly  discomposed  that  he  snatched  up  his 
246 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

hat,  ran  down  into  the  side  street,  and  stood  waiting  for 
her  outside  the  hated  and  ominous  doorway. 

When  after  half  an  hour  she  emerged  from  the  clutch  of 
his  unworthy  confreres,  he  took  her  arm  and  led  her  into 
Trinity  Square;  and,  walking  with  her  round  and  round 
the  small  enclosure,  reproached  her  for  deserting  him  in 
favour  of  such  people. 

"  But  I  haven't  deserted  you,"  she  said,  meekly"  bearing 
the  reproaches.  "  This  is  only  some  private  business  that 
they  are  attending  to." 

"  But  is  it  kind  to  me  ?  You  know  what  I  think  of 
them.  I  ask  you,  is  it  kind  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  meant  no  unkindness,"  she  said  earnestly. 

And  she  offered  apologies  based  on  vague  generalities. 
Life  is  complex  and  difficult.  One  is  forced  out  of  one's 
path  by  unusual  circumstances.  Sometimes  one  is  driven 
to  do  things  of  so  private  a  nature  that  one  cannot  speak 
about  them  to  one's  oldest  and  best  friends. 

"  Very  well.  But  if  you  feel  disinclined  to  confide  every- 
thing to  me  —  there  are  other  men  that  you  could  depend 
on.  Go  to  Dickinson  —  he's  a  thorough  good  sort.  Or 
Loder  —  or  Selby!  Go  to  any  one  of  them.  But  don't  — 
for  mercy's  sake  —  mix  yourself  up  with  these  brutes." 

In  order  to  defend  herself,  Mrs.  Marsden  was  obliged  to 
defend  Hyde  &  Collins. 

"  They  are  quick  to  understand  one.  Really  they  seem 
sharp—" 

"  Sharp!  Yes  —  too  sharp  —  a  thousand  times  too  sharp. 
But  ask  anybody's  opinion  of  them.  Look  at  their  clients. 
They  haven't  got  a  single  solid  client." 

"  But  they  still  act  for  Bence's  —  they  do  everything  for 
Mr.  Bence." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Prentice  contemptuously,  "  but  who's 
Bence,  when  all's  said  and  done  ?  " 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Ah!"  And  Mrs.  Marsden  drew  in  her  breath,  as  if 
she  felt  incapable  of  continuing  the  conversation. 

"  I  grant  you  that  Bence  has  done  wonders  —  and  proved 
me  a  bad  prophet.  But  we  haven't  got  to  the  last  chapter 
of  Bence  yet.  I  don't  believe  Bence  is  really  solid  —  and 
I  never  shall  do,  while  I  see  him  going  in  and  out  of  Hyde 
&  Collins's." 

Mrs.  Marsden  meekly  bore  all  reproaches ;  but  she  showed 
a  stubbornness  that  no  warnings  could  shake.  She  met  di- 
rect questions  with  generalized  vagueness.  What  is  unwise 
in  some  circumstances  may  be  not  unwise  in  other  circum- 
stances. Life  is  complex  —  and  so  on. 

When  Mr.  Prentice  left  her,  he  went  back  to  his  office 
full  of  the  most  dismal  forebodings.  She  had  placed  herself 
in  the  hands  of  Hyde  &  Collins.  She  was  indisputably 
done  for. 


XXII 

TIME  was  passing.  One  Sunday  morning  in  November, 
while  the  vicar  t>f  St.  Saviour's  preached  a  sermon  about  im- 
mortality, she  looked  at  the  familiar  faces  of  the  congrega- 
tion and  thought  sadly  of  the  impermanence  of  all  earthly 
things. 

So  many  of  the  people  she  had  known  were  gone;  so  few 
remained,  and  these  each  showed  so  plainly  the  havoc  and 
the  change  wrought  by  the  flying  years.  She  glanced  at  the 
card  in  the  metal  frame  that  was  half  hidden  by  her  prayer- 
books  — "  Mrs.  Marsden,  two  seats."  Once  the  writing  on 
the  card  read  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thompson,  three  seats,"  and 
she  had  sat  there  with  her  husband  and  mother.  Then  the 
writing  changed  again  — "  Mrs.  Thompson,  two  seats." 
How  many  years  she  and  Enid  had  been  here  together! 

And  the  other  people  in  the  pew  —  a  man  and  a  wife, 
with  little  children  who  had  slowly  grown  into  men  and 
women;  two  elderly  ladies;  a  widower  and  his  sister  —  all 
had  gone.  She  glanced  across  the  side  aisle  at  a  white- 
haired  feeble  old  man,  and  a  wizened  monkey-like  old  dame 
who  nodded  and  shook  unceasingly — Mr.  Bennett,  the 
High  Street  butcher,  and  his  palsied  helpmate;  —  and  she 
thought  of  what  they  were  when  first  she  came  to  St. 
Saviour's:  a  hearty  vigorous  couple  in  the  prime  of  life, 
the  man  seeming  big  enough  to  knock  down  one  of  his 
bullocks,  and  the  woman  singing  the  hymns  so  loudly  that 
her  neighbours  could  not  hear  the  choir.  Now  they  had 
dwindled  and  shrunk  to  this  —  nerveless  arms,  bloodless 
hues,  and  frozen  silence. 

249 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Wherever  she  turned  her  eyes,  she  saw  the  same  signs  and 
could  read  the  same  story  —  bowed  backs,  bald  heads,  blue- 
veined  hands.  Everyone  had  grown  old,  everyone  had  grown 
feeble,  of  those  who  had  seen  her  as  a  young  bride,  as  a 
young  mother.  And  no  new  faces  seemed  to  have  replaced 
the  faces  that  had  vanished.  Fashion  in  recent  years  had 
leaned  steadily  towards  the  other  church.  Holy  Trinity 
possessed  lighted  candles  on  its  altars,  embroidered  copes  on 
its  priests,  stringed  instruments  in  its  organ  loft:  it  was 
there  that  all  the  young  people  went  —  to  be  thrilled  with 
strange  music,  to  be  charmed  with  smart  hats,  to  be  set 
throbbing  with  irrelevant  dreams  of  courtship  and  love. 
Only  the  old  and  the  worn  out  had  been  true  to  quiet  peace- 
ful St.  Saviour's. 

She  herself  was  absolutely  faithful  to  the  church  that  she 
had  used  and  loved  for  so  long.  It  had  become  her  place 
of  rest,  her  harbour  of  refuge.  It  was  only  here  that  she 
ever  felt  quite  at  peace.  She  knew  that  here  she  was  safe 
for  an  hour  at  least;  while  the  service  lasted  no  one  could 
molest  her;  no  one  could  even  speak  to  her:  during  this 
brief  hour  she  belonged  to  herself. 

She  could  not  forget  the  outside  world,  but  she  reso- 
lutely tried  not  to  think  of  it.  Just  now  she  had  driven 
away  a  thought  of  Marsden.  He  was  lying  in  bed;  perhaps 
he  would  sleep  till  late  afternoon;  perhaps  he  would  be 
lazily  getting  ready  for  his  food  when  she  returned  to  the 
house;  —  but  she  need  not  think  of  him.  He  would  not 
join  her  here.  She  folded  her  hands,  and  listened  to  the 
kind  old  vicar  as  he  told  her  of  things  that  are  incompre- 
hensible, immutable,  and  everlasting. 


A  man   had  come  up  the  side  aisle,   and  was  stupidly 
staring  at  the  people  in  the  pews.     Mrs.  Marsden,  glancing 

250 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

at  him  inattentively,  vaguely  wondered  why  he  didn't  take 
one  of  the  many  empty  seats  and  sit  down.  She  knew  him 
very  well.  He  was  a  loafer  of  the  better  class;  and  on 
Sundays  he  regularly  made  his  beat  up  and  down  St. 
Saviour's  Court,  picking  up  odd  six-pences  by  running 
off  to  fetch  cabs,  bringing  forgotten  umbrellas,  or  retailing 
second-hand  newspapers  to  laggards  who  had  missed  the 
paper-boy. 

Presently  he  discovered  Mrs.  Marsden's  pew,  entered  it, 
and  whispered  hoarsely. 

"You're  wanted  at  the  house.  The  gentleman  said  you 
was  to  come  at  once." 

Followed  by  this  seedy  messenger,  she  hastened  from  the 
church. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  asked  him  when  they  got  outside. 

"  I  dunno.  The  gentleman  hollered  to  me  from  the 
door,  and  sent  me  to  fetch  you." 

The  house  door  stood  ajar;  and  her  husband,  in  his 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  was  anxiously  waiting  for  her 
and  guarding  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  to  the  loafer.  "  I'll  remember  you 
another  time;  "  and  he  shut  the  door  and  bolted  it. 

From  the  top  of  the  stairs  there  came  a  sound  of  wailing 
and  lamentation. 

"  Jane,  look  here.  I  want  you  to  stop  this  fool's  mouth 
—  what's  her  name  —  Susan.  I've  somehow  upset  her. 
And  that  infernal  cook  is  encouraging  her  to  squall  the 
house  down." 

Without  a  word  Mrs.  Marsden  hurried  upstairs.  The 
cook,  a  sour-visaged  woman  of  thirty-five,  was  on  the  thres- 
hold of  the  kitchen;  and  Susan,  the  apple-cheeked  house- 
maid, was  clinging  to  cook's  arm,  and  sobbing  and  howling. 

"  Emily  —  Susan,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  quietly,  "  what  is 
all  this  noise  and  fuss  about  ?  " 
17  251 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  The  master  frightened  her,"  said  the  cook,  very  sourly, 
"  and  she  wishes  to  go  to  the  police." 

"  The  police !     What  nonsense !     Why  ?  " 

"  The  master  rang,  and  she  took  up  his  shaving  water  — 
and  what  happened  frightened  her." 

"Where's  father  and  mother?"  cried  Susan.  "I  want 
my  mother.  Take  me  home  to  tell  father.  Or  let  me  go 
to  the  police  station,  and  I'll  tell  them." 

Marsden  had  followed  his  wife  upstairs,  and  he  showed 
himself  at  the  kitchen  door.  At  sight  of  him,  Susan  ceased 
talking  and  began  to  howl  again. 

"  She's  frightened  to  death,"  said  the  cook. 

Mrs.  Marsden  was  patting  the  girl's  shoulder,  studying 
her  tear-stained  face  eagerly  and  intently. 

"  There,  there,"  she  said  gently,  as  if  reassured  by  all 
that  the  red  cheeks  and  streaming  eyes  had  told  her.  "  I 
think  this  is  a  great  noise  about  nothing  at  all." 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Marsden,  at  the  door. 

"  Don't  leave  me  alone  with  him,"  bellowed  Susan.  "  I 
won't  be  kep'  a  prisoner.  I  want  to  see  my  mother  —  and 
my  father." 

"  Hush  —  Susan,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  soothingly. 
"  Compose  yourself.  There  is  no  need  to  cry  any  more." 

"  No  need  to  have  cried  at  all,"  said  Marsden. 

Obviously  he  was  afraid:  he  alternately  blustered  and 
cringed. 

"  You  silly  girl,"  he  said  cringingly,  "  what  rubbish  have 
you  got  into  your  head?  I  pass  a  few  chaffing  remarks  — 
and  you  suddenly  behave  like  a  raving  lunatic."  And  then 
he  went  on  blusteringly.  "  Talk  about  going!  It's  us  who 
ought  to  dismiss  you  for  your  impudence,  and  your  dis- 
respect." 

"  You  did  something  to  frighten  her,  sir,"  said  the  cook. 

"  It's  a  lie  —  a  damned  lie." 
252 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"If  so,"  said  the  cook,  with  concentrated  sourness,  "  why 
not  let  her  go  to  the  police,  as  she  wishes?  " 

"  No,"  shouted  Marsden.  "  I  can't  have  my  servants 
libelling  and  scandalizing  me.  I've  a  public  position  in 
this  town  —  and  I  won't  have  people  sneaking  out  of  my 
house  to  spread  a  lot  of  innuendos  against  their  employ- 
ers." 

Then  he  beckoned  his  wife,  and  spoke  to  her  in  a  whisper. 
"  For  God's  sake,  shut  her  up.  Give  her  a  present  —  square 
her.  Shut  her  mouth  somehow.  .  .  .  It's  all  right,  you 
know  —  but  we  mustn't  give  her  the  chance  of  slandering 
me ;  "  and  he  went  out  of  the  kitchen. 

But  he  returned  almost  immediately,  to  beckon  and  whis- 
per again. 

"  Jane.     Don't  let  her  out  of  your  sight." 

So  this  was  her  task  for  the  remainder  of  the  day  of  rest 
—  to  sit  and  chat  with  a  blubbering  housemaid  until  a 
pacification  of  nerves  and  mind  had  been  achieved. 

She  performed  the  task,  but  found  it  a  fatiguing  one. 
Susan  made  her  labours  arduous  by  returning  to  the  starting 
point  every  time  that  any  progress  had  been  made. 

"  I'd  sooner  go  back  'ome  at  once,  ma'am." 

"  I  think  that  would  be  a  pity,  Susan.  If  you  leave  me 
like  this,  I  may  not  be  able  to  get  you  another  place.  Why 
should  you  throw  up  a  comfortable  situation  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  comfortable." 

"  Susan,  you  shouldn't  say  that.  Haven't  I  treated  you 
kindly?" 

"  Yes,  you  have." 

"  And  haven't  I  taken  trouble  in  teaching  you  your 
duties?  You  are  getting  on  very  nicely;  and  if  you  stay 
with  me  a  little  longer,  I  shall  be  able  to  recommend  you 
as  competent." 

But  this  servant  said  what  all  other  servants  had  said  to 
353 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mrs.  Marsden.  Susan  had  no  fault  to  find  with  her  mis- 
tress. 

"  I  should  be  comfortable,  if  it  wasn't  for  him.  But  I've 
never  been  comfortable  with  him." 

And  then  she  went  back  to  her  starting  point. 

"  I'd  rather  go  'ome.  I  must  ask  mother's  advice  —  and 
tell  father  too.  I  don't  believe  father  would  wish  it  'ushed 
up." 

However,  Mrs.  Marsden  finally  succeeded.  By  bed- 
time Susan  was  pacified. 

"  Yes,  I'll  stay,  ma'am.  I'd  like  to  stay  with  you  —  but 
may  I  sleep  in  Em'ly's  room  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  may." 

Next  morning  no  one  came  to  call  Mrs.  Marsden;  no 
fires  were  lighted;  no  breakfast  was  being  prepared.  Both 
the  servants  had  gone.  In  the  night  cook  had  persuaded 
the  girl  to  change  her  mind. 

A  letter  from  cook,  conspicuously  displayed  on  the  dining- 
room  mantelpiece,  explained  matters. 

"Dear  Madame  f — 

"  We  are  sorry  to  leave  you  but  feel  we  cannot  stay 
In  this  house.  I  have  advised  Susan  to  go  to  her  Home 
and  she  has  gone  there, 

"  Yours  respectfully, 

"  Miss  EMILY  HOWARD." 

Mrs.  Marsden  went  to  her  husband's  room,  woke  him,, 
and  repeated  the  substance  of  Miss  Howard's  note. 

He  was  dreadful  to  see,  in  the  cold  morning  light  —  un- 
shaven, white  and  puffy;  sitting  up  in  bed,  biting  his 
coarse  fingers,  and  looking  at  her  with  cowardly  blood-shot 
eyes. 

254 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Where  is  her  home?" 

Mrs.  Marsden  said  that  Susan's  parents  lived  somewhere 
on  the  other  side  of  Linkfield. 

"  Twelve  miles  away !  She's  gone  out  by  train.  She  has 
got  there  by  now.  What  are  we  to  do  ?" 

"  I  scarcely  know." 

"  Let  me  think  a  minute.  .  .  .  Yes,  look  here.  Get 
hold  of  old  Prentice  —  He's  a  man  of  the  world.  He'll 
help  you.  He'll  be  able  to  shut  them  up." 

And  with  terrified  haste  he  gave  her  his  directions.  She 
was  to  run  to  Mr.  Prentice's  private  house,  and  catch  him 
before  he  started  for  his  office.  Then  she  was  to  run  to 
Cartwright's  garage  and  hire  a  motor-car  for  the  day;  and 
then  she  and  Mr.  Prentice  were  to  go  scouring  out  into 
the  country,  to  silence  Susan  and  all  her  relatives. 

"  Tell  Prentice  to  take  plenty  of  money  with  him.  And 
don't  forget  —  ask  for  Cartwright's  open  car.  It's  faster. 
And  don't  waste  a  minute  —  don't  wait  for  breakfast  or 
anything  —  and  don't  let  Prentice  wait  either." 

In  an  hour  she  and  her  old  friend  were  spinning  along 
the  Linkfield  road  in  the  hired  motor-car.  The  east  wind 
cut  their  faces,  dirt  sprinkled  their  arms,  gloomy  thoughts 
filled  their  minds. 

This,  then,  was  her  Monday's  task  —  to  begin  Sunday's 
toil,  on  a  larger  scale,  all  over  again. 

With  some  difficulty  they  found  the  cottage  for  which 
they  were  seeking.  Susan's  mother  opened  the  door  in  re- 
sponse to  prolonged  tappings.  Susan  had  safely  reached 
home. 

"  Oh,  come  inside,"  said  the  mother ;  and  she  pretended 
to  shed  tears.  "  Oh  dear,  oh  dear.  Who  could  of  believed 
such  a  thing  'appening?  " 

"  Nothing  has  happened,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  confidently 
and  jovially;  "except  that  your  daughter  has  left  her  situa- 

255 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

lion  without  warning,  and  we  want  to  know  what  she  means 
by  it." 

"  Oh,  she's  told  me  everything,"  said  the  mother,  dole- 
fully shaking  her  head.  "  Everything." 

"There  was  nothing  to  tell,"  said  Mr.  Prentice;  "be- 
yond the  fact  that  she  has  behaved  in  a  very  stupid  manner. 
Where  is  she?" 

The  mother  indicated  a  door  behind  her.  "  Poor  dear, 
she's  so  exhausted,  I've  been  trying  to  persuade  her  to  eat 
a  morsel  of  something." 

Mr.  Prentice  lifted  a  latch,  opened  the  inner  door,  and 
disclosed  the  humble  home-picture  —  Susan,  with  her  mouth 
full  of  bacon  and  bread,  stretching  a  hearty  hand  towards 
the  metal  tea-pot. 

"  Ah,  thank  goodness,"  said  the  mother,  "  she  'as  bin  able 
to  pick  a  bit.  Don't  be  afraid,  Susan  —  you're  'ome  now, 
along  of  your  own  mother  and  father;"  and  she  addressed 
Mrs.  Marsden.  "  'Er  father  'as  'card  everything,  too." 

Mr.  Prentice  was  laughing  gaily. 

"  Well  done,  Susan.  Don't  be  afraid  of  another  slice 
of  bacon.  Don't  be  afraid  of  a  fourth  cup  of  tea." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Susan  shyly. 

"Where  is  her  father?  "  asked  Mr.  Prentice.  "  I'd  like 
to  have  a  few  words  with  him." 

But  father,  having  heard  his  daughter's  tale,  had  started 
on  a  long  journey  with  an  empty  waggon.  He  would  re- 
turn with  it  full  of  manure  any  time  this  afternoon.  And 
going,  and  loading,  and  returning,  he  would  be  thinking 
over  everything,  and  deciding  what  he  and  Susan  should 
next  do. 

Mr.  Prentice,  considering  that  even  a  hired  motor-can 
ought  to  be  able  to  overtake  a  manure  waggon  though  empty, 
started  in  pursuit  of  father;  and  Mrs.  Marsden  was  left 
to  conduct  the  pacific  negotiations  at  the  cottage. 

256 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

It  was  a  long  and  weary  day,  full  of  small  difficulties  — 
father,  when  recovered,  not  a  free  man,  unable  to  talk,  com- 
pelled to  attend  to  his  master's  business;  mother  unable  to 
express  any  opinion  without  previous  discussion  with  father; 
empty  fruitless  hours  slowly  dragging  away;  meals  at  a 
public-house ;  a  walk  with  Susan ;  —  then  darkness,  and 
father  talking  to  Mr.  Prentice  in  the  parlour;  and,  finally, 
mother  and  Mrs.  Marsden  summoned  from  the  kitchen  to 
assist  at  ratification  of  peace  proposals. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  Mrs.  Marsden  got  back  to  St. 
Saviour's  Court.  Her  husband  had  not  been  out  all  day. 
He  was  sitting  by  the  dining-room  fire,  with  his  slippered 
feet  on  the  fender,  and  a  nearly  emptied  whisky  bottle  on 
the  corner  of  the  table  near  his  elbow. 

"  Well  ? "  He  looked  round  anxiously  and  apprehen- 
sively. 

"  It  is  over.  There  will  be  no  trouble  —  not  even  a 
scandal." 

She  was  blue  with  cold;  her  hands  were  numbed,  and 
hung  limply  at  her  sides ;  her  voice  had  become  husky. 

"  Bravo !  Well  done !  "  He  stood  up,  and  stretched  and 
straightened  himself,  as  if  throwing  off  the  heavy  load  that 
had  kept  him  crouched  and  bent  in  the  armchair.  "  Excel- 
lent !  I  knew  you'd  do  it  all  right ; "  and  he  drew  a  deep 
breath,  and  then  began  to  chuckle.  "  And,  by  Jove,  old 
girl,  I'm  grateful  to  you.  .  .  .  Look  here.  Have  you 
had  your  grub  ?  Don't  you  want  some  supper  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  understand  —  my  best  thanks ;  "  and  really  he 
seemed  to  feel  some  little  gratitude  as  well  as  great  satis- 
faction. "  Jane,  you're  a  brick.  You  never  show  malice. 
You've  a  large  heart." 

"  No,"  she  said  huskily;  and  with  a  curious  slow  gesture, 
she  raised  her  numbed  hands  and  pressed  them  against  hei 

257 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

breast.  "  I  had  a  large  heart  once ;  but  it  has  grown  smaller 
and  smaller,  and  harder  and -harder  —  till  now  it  is  a  lump 
of  stone." 

"  No,  no.     Rot." 

"  Yes.  And  that's  lucky  —  or  before  this  you  would 
have  broken  it." 

He  stood  staring  at  the  door  when  it  had  closed  behind 
her.  Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  turned  to  the  table, 
and  replenished  his  glass  with  whisky. 


XXIII 

IT  was  immediately  after  this  fatiguing  episode  that  Mr. 
Prentice  made  his  last  urgent  prayer  to  Mrs.  Marsden. 
Complying  with  his  request  for  an  interview,  she  had  come 
again  to  the  panelled  room  in  Hill  Street.  But  on  this 
occasion  she  chose  a  different  chair,  and  sat  with  her  back 
to  the  windows  and  her  face  in  shadow. 

"  You  see  for  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  with  culmi- 
nating plainness:  "  he  is  an  unmitigated  blackguard.  Get  rid 
of  him." 

"  I  can't." 

"  You  can.  Yates  is  still  game  —  I  mean,  Yates  has  not 
forgotten  anything.  Yates  will  swear  to  everything  that  she 
remembers.  ...  So  far  as  Yates  goes,  her  evidence  may 
be  all  the  better  for  the  delay.  It  will  be  all  the  more  diffi- 
cult to  shake  it  after  the  lapse  of  time.  .  .  .  Of  course 
we  shall  be  asked,  *  Why  have  you  sat  down  on  your  wrongs 
for  so  long? '  But  we  have  our  answer  now.  This  is  the 
answer.  You  put  up  with  his  ill-usage  and  infidelities  until 
he  befouled  your  home.  A  disgraceful  affair  with  a  servant 
girl  under  your  own  roof !  That  was  the  last  straw  —  and 
it  has  driven  you  to  the  Court,  to  ask  for  the  relief  to  which 
you  have  been  entitled  for  years." 

"  Oh,  no  —  impossible." 

"  I  pledge  you  my  word,  we  shan't  fail.  We  shall  pull  it 
off  to  a  certainty." 

"  No,  I  can't  do  it.  And  even  if  we  succeeded,  it  would 
be  only  a  half  relief.  Divorce  wouldn't  end  the  business 
partnership." 

259 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  No.  But  when  once  your  marriage  is  dissolved,  we  shall 
be  able  to  make  terms  with  him.  Wipe  him  out  as  your 
husband,  and  he  loses  the  tremendous  hold  he  has  on  you. 
Get  rid  of  your  incubus.  Think  what  it  would  mean  to  you. 
He  would  be  gone  —  you  would  be  alone  again ;  able  to  pull 
things  together,  work  up  the  business,  nurse  it  back  to  life. 
On  my  honour,  I  think  you  are  capable  of  restoring  your  for- 
tunes even  at  this  late  day." 

But  Mrs.  Marsden  only  shook  her  head,  while  Mr.  Pren- 
tice continued  to  entreat  her  to  act  on  his  advice. 

"  Suppose  you  always  have  to  go  on  paying  him  half  of  all 
you  can  make  by  your  industry?  Never  mind.  What  does 
it  matter  ?  You'll  pay  it  to  him  at  a  distance  —  you'll  never 
have  to  see  him  —  you  will  have  swept  him  out  of  your  life. 
My  dear,  the  years  will  roll  off  your  back;  you'll  be  able  to 
breathe,  to  live  —  you'll  feel  that  you  are  your  own  self 
again." 

"No  — impossible." 

"  Yes.  Leave  it  to  me.  I  answer  for  everything,  before 
and  afterwards.  I'll  manage  my  fine  gentleman  —  I'll  cut 
his  claws  so  that  he'll  be  a  very  quiet  sort  of  partner  in  the 
years  to  come.  I'll  work  at  it  till  I  drop  —  but  I  swear  I'll 
put  you  on  safe  ground,  if  only  you'll  trust  me  and  let  me 
tackle  the  job." 

And  Mr.  Prentice,  leaning  forward  in  his  chair,  took  her 
hand  and  pressed  it  imploringly. 

"  You  are  what  you  have  always  been  to  me,  Mr.  Pren- 
tice,—  the  best,  the  kindest  of  friends."  She  allowed  him  to 
retain  her  hand  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  gently  with- 
drew it.  "  But  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  explain  —  so  that 
you  would  understand  me." 

"  I  shall  understand  any  explanation." 

"  I  took  him  for  better  for  worse.  And  once  I  promised 
him  that  I  would  hold  to  him  until  he  set  me  free."  She 

360 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

paused,  as  if  carefully  putting  her  thought  into  appropriate 
words.  "  It  may  come  to  it.  ...  Yes,  it  is  what  I 
hope  for  —  that  he  himself  may  give  me  back  my  freedom." 

"But  how?" 

"  He  might  consent  to  a  separation  —  without  scandal, 
without  publicity." 

"  Why  should  he  do  that  ?  While  you've  a  shot  in  the 
locker,  he'll  stick  to  you." 

Mr.  Prentice's  voice  conveyed  his  sense  of  despair.  She 
would  not  be  convinced.  He  got  up,  sat  down  again,  and 
vigorously  resumed  his  appeal. 

"  Can't  you  see  now  the  force  of  what  I  have  told  you  so 
often?  He  will  not  only  disgrace  you,  he  will  eat  you  up. 
It  is  what  he  is  doing  —  has  almost  done.  And  when  you 
have  let  him  squander  your  last  farthing,  he'll  desert  you  — 
but  he  won't  desert  you  till  then." 

But  Mrs.  Marsden  again  shook  her  head,  and  once  more 
fell  back  upon  the  vagueness  that  baffles  argument  if  it  can- 
not refute  it. 

"  No  —  dear  Mr.  Prentice,  I  feel  that  I  couldn't  make 
any  move  now.  Life  is  so  complicated  —  there  are  difficul- 
ties on  all  sides  —  my  hands  are  tied.  .  .  .  Perhaps  I 
will  ask  you  for  your  aid  —  but  not  now  —  and  not  for  a 
divorce." 

"  But  if  you  wait,  no  one  will  be  able  to  aid  you.  The 
hour  for  aid  will  have  passed  forever."  And  Mr.  Prentice 
brought  out  all  his  eloquence  in  vain.  "  Try  to  recover 
your  old  attitude  of  mind.  Consider  the  thing  as  a  business 
woman.  Tear  away  sentiment  and  feminine  fancies.  Make 
this  effort  of  mind  —  you  would  have  been  strong  enough  to 
do  it  a  little  while  ago, —  and  consider  yourself  and  him  as  if 
you  were  different  people.  Now  —  from  the  business  point 
of  view  —  and  no  sentiment!  He  is  an  undeserving  black- 
guard." 

261 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  No.  I  can't  do  anything  now.  ...  I  have  consid- 
ered it  as  a  business  woman.  I  have  looked  at  it  from  every 
point  of  view.  Believe  me,  I  must  go  my  own  way." 

This  was  the  final  appeal  of  Mr.  Prentice.  He  said  no 
more  on  the  subject  then,  or  afterwards.  He  had  shot  his 
bolt. 


XXIV 

EARLY  in  the  new  year  Marsden  had  a  serious  illness.  He 
caught  a  chill  on  a  suburban  racecourse,  came  home  to  shiver 
and  groan  and  curse,  and  two  days  afterwards  was  down  with 
double  pneumonia. 

He  kept  the  hospital  nurses,  his  wife,  and  the  doctor  busy 
for  three  weeks ;  and  throughout  this  time  there  was  no  point 
at  which  it  could  be  said  that  he  was  not  in  imminent  danger 
of  death. 

Then  the  shop  assistants  heard,  with  properly  concealed 
feelings  of  exultation,  that  a  devoted  wife,  a  clever  doctor, 
and  two  skilled  nurses  had  saved  the  governor's  life.  The 
governor  had  pulled  through.  Dr.  Eldridge,  as  the  shop  un- 
derstood, was  able  to  make  the  gratifying  pronouncement  that 
the  patient  possessed  a  naturally  magnificent  frame  and  con- 
stitution, which  had  been  but  partially  weakened  or  im- 
paired by  carelessness  and  imprudence.  They  need  not  enter- 
tain any  further  fear.  The  dear  governor  will  last  for  a 
splendidly  long  time  yet. 

But  his  convalescence  was  slow;  and  after  the  recovery  of 
normal  health  he  passed  swiftly  into  a  third  phase.  He 
showed  no  inclination  to  rush  about;  his  mental  indolence 
had  become  so  great  that  the  mere  notion  of  a  train- 
journey  fatigued  him;  he  did  his  betting  locally,  and 
spent  his  days  with  the  red-haired  barmaid  in  the  Dolphin 
bar. 

At  the  Dolphin  Hotel  he  had  slid  down  a  descending  scale 
of  importance  which  emblematized,  with  a  strange  accu- 
rateness,  his  descent  in  the  town  of  Mallingbridge  and  in  the 

363 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

world  generally.  Once  he  used  to  come  swaggering  into  the 
noble  coffee  room,  and  be  flattered  by  the  landlord  and 
fawned  on  by  the  manager  while  he  gave  his  orders  for  sump- 
tuous luncheons  and  dinners  a  la  carte,  with  champagne  of 
the  choicest  brands,  and  the  oldest  and  costliest  of  liqueurs. 
After  that,  a  period  arrived  when  the  restaurant  and  a  table- 
d'hote  repast,  washed  down  with  any  cheap  but  strong  wine, 
were  good  enough  for  him.  Then  he  was  seen  only  in  the 
billiard  room ;  or  in  the  small  grill-room,  where  he  would  sit 
drinking  for  hours  while  relays  of  commercial  travellers  and 
minor  tradesmen  bolted  their  chops  and  steaks.  Now  he  had 
descended  to  what  was  called  the  saloon  bar;  and  here,  since 
he  had  lost  his  club,  he  made  himself  quite  at  ease,  and  was 
listened  to  with  some  semblance  of  respect  by  the  shabby  fre- 
quenters, and  always  smiled  upon  by  the  barmaid  —  who  was 
an  old,  and  of  late  a  very  intimate  friend.  He  could  not 
drop  any  lower  at  the  Dolphin,  unless  he  went  out  to  the 
stable  yard  and  sat  with  ostlers  and  fly-drivers  in  the  taproom 
beneath  the  arch. 

At  mid-day  there  were  eatables  of  a  light  sort  on  the  sa- 
loon counter;  but,  rejecting  such  scratchy  fare,  Mr.  Marsden 
regularly  came  home  for  his  solid  luncheon.  After  lunch- 
ing heavily  he  went  back  to  the  saloon,  stayed  there  through 
the  tea  hour,  and  returned  to  St.  Saviour's  Court  for  dinner. 
He  was  regular  in  his  attendance  at  meals,  but  except  for 
meal-time  the  house  never  saw  him.  In  fact  he  was  settling 
down  into  stereotyped  habits.  When  dinner  was  over  he  re- 
tired again  —  to  take  his  grog  in  the  saloon,  to  help  the  bar- 
maid close  the  saloon,  and  to  escort  her  thence  to  her  modest 
little  dwelling-house. 

Mrs.  Marsden  knew  all  about  this  barmaid,  with  her  fas- 
cinating smiles  and  her  Venetian  red  hair  —  and  indeed  about 
her  dwelling-house  also.  It  was  common  knowledge  that  a 
few  years  ago  she  had  been  a  parlourmaid  in  Adelaide  Cres- 

264 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

cent;  had  somehow  got  into  trouble;  and  somehow  getting 
out  of  it,  had  risen  to  the  surface  as  a  saloon  siren,  and 
proved  herself  attractive  to  more  persons  than  one.  As  to 
her  place  of  residence,  an  illuminating  letter  had  reached 
Marsden  &  Thompson  and  been  duly  opened  behind  the 
glass — "  re  No.  16  New  Bridge  Road.  We  beg  to  remind 
you  that  your  firm  have  guaranteed  Miss  Ingram's  rent,  and 
the  same  being  now  nearly  a  quarter  in  arrear,  we  beg,  etc., 
etc.  ..." 

Then  it  was  to  Number  Sixteen  that  Mr.  Marsden 
walked  every  evening,  wet  or  fine.  No  one  knew  when  he 
returned  home  again.  But  he  was  always  ready  for  his  late 
breakfast  in  his  own  bed. 

Thanks  to  the  regularity  of  these  habits,  Enid  could  now 
come  and  see  her  mother  without  risk  of  encountering  her 
stepfather.  That  cruel  threat  of  his  had  been  often  re- 
peated, but  never  converted  into  an  explicit  order ;  he  disap- 
proved of  Mrs.  Kenion's  visits,  and  if  they  were  brought  to 
his  notice  he  would  certainly  prohibit  them.  But  now  the 
house  was  safe  ground  between  luncheon  and  dinner;  and 
there  were  few  Thursday  afternoons  on  which  Enid  did  not 
come  with  her  child  to  share  Mrs.  Marsden's  weekly  half 
holiday. 

Little  Jane  was  old  enough  to  do  without  the  constant 
vigilance  of  a  nurse;  and  almost  old  enough,  it  sometimes 
seemed,  to  understand  that  she  was  her  mother's  only  joy  and 
consolation. 

"  You  must  always  be  a  good  little  girl,"  Mrs.  Marsden 
used  to  say,  "  and  make  mummy  happy,  and  very  proud  of 
you." 

And  the  child,  looking  at  granny  with  such  wise  eyes,  said 
she  was  always  good,  and  never  disturbed  mummy  in  her 
room,  or  asked  to  be  read  to  when  mummy  was  crying. 
Really,  as  she  said  this  sort  of  thing,  she  seemed  to  compre- 

265 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

hend  as  clearly  as  her  grandmother  that  there  was  misery, 
deepening  misery,  in  the  ivy-clad  farmhouse. 

"  Mummy  mustn't  cry,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  tenderly. 
"  Mummy  must  remember  that  while  she  has  you,  she  has 
everything.  .  .  .  Enid,  don't  give  way." 

For  mummy  was  there  and  then  beginning  to  do  just  what 
she  mustn't  do. 

"Mother,  I  can't  help  it;"  and  Enid  wiped  her  eyes. 
"  I'm  not  brave  like  you.  And  I  feel  now  and  then  that  I 
can't  go  on  with  it." 

Enid's  barrier  had  fallen ;  she,  too,  abandoned  the  defence 
of  an  impossible  position.  Often  she  showed  a  disposition  to 
plunge  into  open  confidence,  and  tell  the  long  tale  of  her 
trials  and  sorrows;  but  Mrs.  Marsden  did  not  encourage  a 
confidential  outbreak,  indeed  checked  all  tendencies  in  this  di- 
rection. 

She  used  to  take  the  child  on  her  lap;  and,  after  a  little 
fondling  and  whispering,  Jane  always  fell  asleep.  Then, 
with  the  small  flaxen  head  nestled  against  her  bosom,  she 
talked  quietly  to  her  daughter,  endeavouring  to  put  forward 
cheerful  optimistic  views,  and  providing  the  philosophic  gen- 
eralities from  which  in  troublous  hours  one  should  derive 
stimulation  and  support. 

"  She's  tired  from  the  journey.  How  pretty  she  is  grow- 
ing, Enid.  She  will  be  extraordinarily  pretty  when  she  is 
grown-up.  She  will  be  exactly  what  you  were." 

"  No  one  ever  thought  me  pretty,  except  you,  mother." 

"  Nonsense,  dear.  Everyone  admired  you.  You  were 
enormously  admired." 

"  Then  there  was  something  wanting,"  said  Enid  bitterly. 
"  I  hadn't  the  charms  that  have  lasting  power." 

But  Mrs.  Marsden  would  not  allow  the  conversation  to 
take  an  awkward  turn. 

"And  Jane  looks  so  well,"  she  went  on  cheerfully. 
266 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Such  limbs  —  and  such  a  weight!  She  is  a  glorious  child. 
She  does  you  credit,  dear.  You  have  every  reason  to  be 
proud  of  her  —  and  you  will  be  prouder  and  prouder,  in  the 
time  to  come." 

"  I  hope  so  —  I  pray  so.  I  shall  have  nothing  else  to 
be  proud  of." 

Once  or  twice,  while  the  child  was  sleeping,  Enid  glided 
from  obvious  hints  to  a  bald  statement,  in  spite  of  all  Mrs. 
Marsden's  endeavours  to  restrain  her. 

"  Mother,  my  life  is  insupportable ;  "  and  tears  began  to 
flow.  "  Mother  dear,  can't  you  help  me?  " 

"  My  darling,  how  can  I  ?  I  have  told  you  of  my  difficul- 
ties—  but  you  don't  dream,  you  would  never  guess  what 
they  are." 

"  It  isn't  money  now,"  sobbed  Enid.  "  I'd  never  again 
ask  you  for  money  —  and  money,  if  you  had  thousands  to 
give,  would  do  me  no  good.  .  .  .  Oh,  I'm  so  wretched 
—  so  utterly  wretched." 

"  My  dearest  girl,"  and  Mrs.  Marsden,  in  the  agitation 
caused  by  this  statement,  moved  uneasily  and  woke  the  little 
girl.  "  You  tear  me  to  pieces  when  you  ask  me  to  help  you. 
My  own  Enid,  I  can't  help  you.  I  can't  help  you  now. 
You  must  be  brave,  and  carry  your  burdens  by  yourself. 
.  .  .  You  say  I  am  brave.  Then  be  like  me.  I'm  in  the 
midst  of  perils  and  fears  —  my  hands  are  tied ;  yet  I  go  on 
fighting.  I  swear  to  you  I  am  fighting  hard.  I've  not 
given  up  hope.  No,  no.  Don't  think  that  I'm  not  wanting 
to  help  you  —  longing  to  help  you  —  meaning  to  help  you, 
when  the  chance  comes." 

Jane  had  extricated  herself  from  the  arms  that  held  her; 
and,  sliding  to  the  floor,  she  went  to  her  mother's  side.  The 
energy  of  granny's  voice  frightened  her. 

"  I'll  do  my  best,"  said  Enid.  "  I'll  try  to  bear  things 
submissively,  as  you  do." 

18  267 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  And  don't  lose  hope  in  the  future,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden, 
dropping  her  voice,  and  summoning  every  cheerful  general- 
ity she  could  remember.  "  Be  patient.  Wait  —  and  clouds 
will  pass.  You  are  young  —  with  more  than  half  your  life 
before  you.  You  have  your  sweet  child.  Go  on  hoping  for 
happy  days.  The  clouds  will  pass.  The  sun  will  shine 
again." 

But  before  any  gleam  of  sunshine  appeared,  the  sombre 
clouds  that  lowered  over  Enid's  head  burst  into  a  heavy 
storm. 

One  morning  Mrs.  Marsden  was  engaged  with  Mears  on 
what  had  become  a  painful  duty.  They  were  stock-taking  in 
the  silk  department;  and,  as  the  empty  shelves  sadly  con- 
fronted them,  Mears  looked  at  her  with  dull  eyes,  opened 
and  shut  his  mouth,  but  could  not  speak.  He  thought  of 
what  this  particular  department  had  once  been,  and  of  his 
own  delight  in  especially  fostering  and  tending  it;  of  how  it 
had  improved  under  his  care;  of  how  he  and  Mr.  Ridgway 
had  built  up  quite  a  respectable  little  wholesale  trade,  as  ad- 
junct to  the  ordinary  retail  business,  supplying  the  smaller 
shops  and  steadily  extending  the  connection.  When  he 
thought  of  these  things,  it  was  no  wonder  that  he  could  not 
speak. 

"  Never  mind,  Mr.  Mears,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  in  a 
whisper.  Intuitively  she  knew  what  was  passing  in  his 
mind.  "  It's  no  good  looking  backwards.  We  must  look 
ahead." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt,"  said  Mears  blankly. 

"  I  see  what  you  mean.  But  we'll  get  an  order  through 
—  before  very  long.  Meanwhile,  you  must  do  some  more 
of  your  clever  dressing." 

And  it  was  just  then  —  before  Mr.  Mears  could  promise 
to  dress  the  empty  shelves  —  that  the  house  servant  appeared, 

268 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

and  told  her  mistress  of  the  unexpected  arrival  of  Mrs. 
Kenion. 

It  was  not  a  Thursday ;  and  Enid  came  only  on  Thursdays, 
and  never  before  luncheon.  Mrs.  Marsden  knew  at  once 
that  something  remarkable  had  occurred. 

"  Is  Miss  Jane  with  her?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  They're  waiting  for  you  upstairs  in  the 
drawing-room." 

Mrs.  Marsden  hurried  up  to  the  first  floor,  and  rushed 
through  the  door  of  communication. 

"  Enid,  my  dearest  child." 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother!     It's  all  over." 

Enid  was  in  a  pitiable  state  of  distress;  the  red  circles 
round  her  eyes  were  absolutely  disfiguring;  she  wrung  her 
hands,  and  contorted  her  whole  body. 

"  Enid  dear  —  tell  me.     Don't  keep  me  in  suspense." 

"  He  has  gone  —  went  to  London  this  morning." 

"Who  went?     Charles?     Do  you  mean  Charles?" 

"  Yes  —  and  I  don't  believe  he  will  ever  come  back  to 
me." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden.  "  Jane 
shall  have  a  treat.  Jane,  you  shall  come  and  play  in  the 
pantry.  Won't  that  be  nice?  " 

And  she  took  her  grandchild  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  from 
the  room.  Outside  in  the  passage  she  smiled  at  the  little 
girl,  patted  her  cheek,  stooped  to  hug  and  kiss  her.  Then 
she  gave  her  over  to  the  charge  of  the  housemaid  —  an  el- 
derly woman  with  an  ugly  face  and  an  austere  manner  —  and 
walked  briskly  back  to  the  dining-room. 

"  Eliza  will  amuse  Jane,"  she  said  cheerfully.  "  Eliza 
is  kind,  although  she  seems  so  forbidding.  .  .  .  And 
now,  my  dear,  you  can  tell  me  all  about  this  news  —  this 
great  news  —  this  astonishing  news  of  yours." 

Enid  told  her  tale  confusedly.  She  was  too  much  dis- 
269 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

tressed  to  record  events  in  their  logical  sequence.  She 
worked  backwards  and  forwards,  breaking  the  thread  with 
ejaculations,  laments,  and  sad  reflections,  mixing  yesterday 
with  days  that  belonged  to  last  year  and  the  year  before  last 
year.  But  Mrs.  Marsden  soon  grasped  the  import  of  the 
tale. 

Mr.  Kenion  was  the  lover  as  well  as  the  pilot  of  that  rich 
hunting  lady.  Enid  had  suspected  the  truth  for  a  long  time, 
had  been  certain  of  the  truth  and  suffered  under  the  certainty 
for  another  long  time  —  all  that,  however,  belonged  to  the 
past  days  and  was  quite  unimportant.  Yesterday  was  the 
important  day. 

Yesterday  there  had  been  a  lawn  meet  —  whether  at  Wid- 
more  Towers  or  somewhere  else,  Mrs.  Marsden  did  not 
gather.  Mrs.  Bulford's  horse  was  there;  but  as  yet  Mrs. 
Bulford  had  not  shown  herself.  Charles  was  there,  dis- 
mounted for  the  moment,  walking  about  among  the  gentle- 
men in  front  of  the  house,  taking  nips  of  cherry  brandy  and 
nibbling  biscuits  offered  by  the  footmen  with  the  trays.  All 
was  jollity  and  animation  —  promise  of  fine  sport ;  dull  sky, 
gentle  westerly  breeze,  dew-sprinkled  earth;  kindly  nature 
seemed  to  proclaim  a  good  scenting  day. 

And  somebody,  who  has  proved  a  very  dull-nosed  hound, 
is  on  the  scent  at  last.  Here  comes  stiff-legged  Major 
Bulford,  armed  with  a  hunting  crop  although  he  only 
hunts  on  wheels,  hobbling  over  the  lawn  among  the  gentle- 
men. 

Hullo!  What's  up?  Look!  Bulford  is  wanging  into 
Charlie,  calling  him  names  as  he  slashes  him  across  the  face 
with  stick  and  thong,  using  a  fist  now, —  hobbling  after 
Charlie  when  Charlie  has  had  enough,  trying  with  his  unin- 
jured leg  to  kick  behind  Charlie's  back, —  and  tumbling  at 
full  length  on  the  damp  grass. 

Mr.  Kenion  took  his  bleeding  face  home  to  be  patched; 
270 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

and  early  this  morning  he  had  gone  to  London  —  where 
Mrs.  Bulford  was  waiting  for  him. 

"  And,  mother,  he  as  good  as  said  that  I  should  never  see 
him  again.  He  confessed  that  he  and  Mamie  had  been  very 
imprudent  —  and  Major  Bulford  has  discovered  everything." 

"  But,  my  darling,  why  do  you  cry?  Why  aren't  you  re- 
joicing—  singing  your  song  of  joy?  " 

"Mother!" 

"  All  this  is  splendid  good  news  —  not  bad  news." 

"  Mother,  don't  say  it." 

"  But  I  do  say  it.  I  say,  Thank  God  —  if  this  is  going  to 
give  my  girl  release  from  her  slavery."  Mrs.  Marsden  had 
spoken  in  a  tone  of  exaltation ;  but  now  her  brows  contracted, 
and  her  voice  became  grave.  "  Enid,  we  mustn't  run  on  so 
fast.  To  me  it  seems  almost  too  good  to  be  true." 

"  To  me  it  seems  dreadful." 

"Yes,  at  the  moment.  But  later,  you  will  know  it  is 
emancipation,  life.  Only,  let  us  keep  calm.  This  man  — 
Bulford  —  may  not  intend  to  divorce  her." 

"  Oh,  he  wilL" 

"  You  think  he  will  wish  to  cast  her  off?  " 

"  Yes.     Charlie  as  good  as  said  so." 

"  But  tell  me  this  —  You  say  they  are  very  rich.  Which 
of  them  has  the  money  —  the  husband  or  the  wife  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  all  Mrs.  Bulford's  —  her  very  own." 

"Ah!  The  man  may  not  divorce  her  —  but  if  he  does, 
there  is  one  thing  of  which  you  can  be  absolutely  certain. 
Kenion  will  stick  to  her,  and  give  you  your  freedom." 

It  was  nearly  one  o'clock.  Mrs.  Marsden,  glancing  at 
the  mantlepiece,  started.  Her  husband  would  soon  return 
for  his  substantial  mid-day  meal. 

"  Enid  dear,  I  must  take  you  and  Jane  out  to  lunch.  I 
know  you  won't  care  to  meet  Richard.  Come!  I  shan't 
be  a  minute  putting  on  my  bonnet ;  "  and  she  hurried  irom 

271 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

the  room.  "  Eliza !  If  Mr.  Marsden  asks  for  me,  tell  him 
I  shall  not  be  in  to  luncheon.  .  .  .  That  is  all  that  you 
need  say." 

To  avoid  the  chance  of  being  seen  by  her  husband  in  High 
Street,  she  led  Enid  and  the  little  girl  up  the  court  instead 
of  down  it,  round  the  church-yard,  and  through  devious 
ways  to  Gordon's,  the  confectioner's.  Here,  at  a  small  table 
in  the  back  room,  she  gave  them  a  comfortable  and  suffi- 
cient repast  —  chicken  for  Enid,  and  nice  soup  and  milk 
pudding  for  Jane.  She  herself  was  unable  to  eat:  excite- 
ment had  banished  all  appetite.  She  cut  up  toast  for  the 
soup,  carved  the  chicken,  dusted  the  pudding  with  sugar ;  and 
smilingly  watched  over  her  guests. 

But  every  now  and  then  she  frowned,  and  became  lost  in 
deep  thought.  Once,  after  a  frowning  pause,  she  leaned 
across  the  table  and  clutched  Enid's  arm. 

"  Enid,"  she  whispered,  with  intense  anxiety,  "  is  this  Bui- 
ford  really  an  upright  honourable  man  who  will  do  the  right 
thing,  and  cast  her  off;  or  is  he  a  mean-spirited  cur  who  will 
support  his  disgrace  for  the  sake  of  the  cash  ?  " 

They  remained  at  the  confectioner's  until  Mrs.  Marsden 
could  feel  no  doubt  that  her  husband  was  now  safe  in  his 
saloon;  and  then  she  took  them  back  to  the  house. 

She  sent  Mears  a  message  to  say  that  he  and  the  shop 
must  do  without  her  this  afternoon,  and  she  sat  for  a  couple 
of  quiet  hours  hearing  the  remainder  of  Enid's  grievous  tale. 
Plainly  it  did  Enid  good  to  talk  about  her  troubles;  the 
longer  she  talked  the  calmer  she  grew;  and  while  stage  by 
stage  she  traced  the  history  of  her  unhappy  married  life, 
Mrs.  Marsden  thought  very  often  of  her  own  experiences. 

Jane,  contented  and  replete,  had  fallen  asleep  upon  gran- 
ny's lap;  and  Mrs.  Marsden  softly  rocked  her  to  and  fro,  to 
make  the  sleep  sweeter  and  easier. 

272 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Unhappy  Enid!  She  recited  all  her  pains  and  pangs  and 
torments.  She  had  loved  the  man,  had  thought  him  a  fine 
gentleman,  and  had  found  him  a  cruel  beast.  She  had 
dreamed  and  awakened.  She  had  tried  to  reconstitute  the 
dream,  to  shut  her  eyes  to  realities,  and  live  in  the  dream 
that  she  knew  to  be  unreal.  But  he  would  not  let  her.  She 
had  forgiven  misdeeds,  and  even  forgotten  them ;  he  had  hurt 
her  again  and  again  and  again ;  and  each  time  she  had  healed 
her  wounds,  and  presented  herself  to  him  whole  and  loyal 
once  more. 

While  Mrs.  Marsden  listened,  she  was  thinking,  "  Yes, 
that  is  the  keynote,  the  apology,  and  the  explanation.  Love 
dies  so  slowly." 

Now  Enid  had  come  to  the  end  of  her  tale. 

"  Mother,"  she  was  saying,  "  I  know  I  shall  never  see  him 
any  more ;  "  and,  saying  it,  she  began  to  cry  again.  "  He 
spoke  to  me  so  kindly  when  he  was  going  from  me.  .  .  . 
And  I  looked  at  his  poor  face,  all  striped  with  the  sticking- 
plaster,  and  I  thought  of  what  he  had  been  to  me.  It  all 
came  back  to  me  in  a  rush  —  the  old  feelings,  mother, —  and 
I  begged  him  not  to  go.  And  I  asked  him  at  least  to  kiss 
me  —  and  he  did  it  —  and  I  knew  that  he  was  sorry." 

Very  quietly  and  carefully  Mrs.  Marsden  got  up,  and 
placed  the  sleeping  child  on  her  mother's  lap. 

"  Enid,  take  what  is  left  to  you.  Put  your  arms  round 
her,  and  hold  her  against  your  heart.  Hold  her  safe,  and 
hold  her  close  —  for  you  are  holding  all  the  world." 

Then,  in  great  agitation,  she  walked  up  and  down  the 
room ;  and  when  she  stopped,  and  stood  by  Enid's  chair,  her 
eyes  were  streaming. 

"  Never  mind,  my  darling."  An  extraordinary  exaltation 
sounded  in  her  voice;  and,  as  she  struggled  to  moderate  its 
tone,  there  came  a  queer  vibration  and  huskiness.  It  seemed 
that  but  for  dread  of  waking  the  little  girl,  she  would  have 

273 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

shouted  her  words.  "  Never  mind.  You  have  your  child. 
Think  of  that.  Nothing  else  matters.  I  have  suffered ;  you 
have  suffered  —  never  mind.  Perhaps  we  women  were  in- 
tended to  suffer  —  and  we  have  to  bear  some  things  so 
cruel  that  they  must  be  borne  in  silence.  If  we  spoke  of 
them,  they  might  kill.  But  it  is  all  nothing  compared  with 
this; "  and  she  stooped  to  kiss  Enid's  forehead,  and  very 
gently  and  softly  stroked  the  child's  hair.  "  You  and  I 
have  both  made  our  link  in  the  wonderful  chain  of  life.  We 
have  given  what  God  gave  us.  We  carried  the  torch,  and 
it  has  not  been  struck  out  of  our  hands  and  extinguished. 
.  .  .  We  will  rear  your  child ;  and  I  shall  see  you  in  her  ; 
and  she  will  grow  tall  and  strong;  and  she  will  love  —  you 
most  —  the  mother, —  but  me  too,  when  she  understands 
that  you  came  to  her  from  me.  .  .  .  And  the  sun  shall 
shine  again,  and  you  shall  be  happy  again  —  for  God  is  kind, 
and  God  is  just.  .  .  .  And  then  there  will  be  no  more 
tears  —  and  a  touch  of  your  child's  lips  will  destroy  the 
memory  of  tears." 


XXV 

ANOTHER  year  had  slowly  dragged  by. 

Enid  was  still  living  with  her  child  at  the  farmhouse; 
but  all  the  personal  property  of  the  child's  father,  all  those 
numerous  signs  of  too  engrossing  amusements,  had  disap- 
peared. Horses  and  grooms,  brushes  and  boots,  spurs  and 
bridles  —  all  were  gone.  In  the  suit  of  Bulford  vs.  Bulford 
and  Kenion,  the  petitioner  obtained  a  decree  nisi;  and  soon 
the  decree  will  be  made  absolute.  Another  undefended  suit 
—  that  of  Kenion  vs.  Kenion  —  is  down  for  hearing.  Very 
soon  now  Enid  will  be  free. 

Meanwhile  the  big  looking-glasses  on  the  stairs  and  at 
department  entrances  of  Thompson  &  Marsden's  shop  had 
been  growing  tarnished,  dull,  and  spotted.  They  showed 
nothing  new  in  their  misty  depths  —  emptiness  and  desola- 
tion; unused  space  so  great  that  it  was  not  necessary  to 
multiply  it  by  reflection ;  and  a  grey-haired  black-robed 
woman  passing  and  repassing  through  the  faint  bluish  fog, 
with  shadowy,  ghostly  lines  of  such  sad  figures  marching 
and  wheeling  at  her  side. 

But  there  was  no  space  for  fog  in  the  establishment  across 
the  road.  During  these  twelve  slow  months  the  visible, 
unmistakable  prosperity  of  Bence  had  been  stupendous. 

He  had  bought  out  Mr.  Bennett,  the  butcher.  He  would 
buy  the  whole  street.  He  had  enlarged  his  popular  market, 
adding  Flowers  to  Fruit  and  Vegetables.  The  old  auc- 
tioneer had  retired,  in  order  to  make  room  for  this  addition; 
and  where  for  a  half  a  century  there  had  been  no  objects 
more  interesting  than  sale  bills  and  house  registers  and  dang- 

275 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

ling  bunches  of  keys,  beautiful  unseasonable  blossoms  now 
shed  their  fragrance  throughout  the  year.  Plainly  there  was 
nothing  too  old,  or  too  hard,  or  too  large  for  Bence  to 
swallow. 

And  the  reputation  of  Bence's,  as  well  as  its  mere  success, 
had  steadily  been  rising.  It  seemed  as  if  the  remorseless  and 
triumphant  Archibald  had  not  only  stolen  the  entire  trade 
of  his  principal  rival,  but  had  also  borrowed  all  the  methods 
that  in  the  old  time  built  up  the  trade.  In  his  best  depart- 
ments the  goods  were  now  as  solid  and  as  real  as  those  which 
had  made  the  glory  of  Thompson's  at  its  zenith.  But  be- 
yond this  laudable  improvement  of  stock  —  a  matter  that  no 
one  could  complain  of, —  Bence  betrayed  a  cruel  persistence  in 
imitating  subsidiary  characteristics  of  Mrs.  Thompson's 
tactical  campaign. 

Gradually  Bence  had  won  the  town.  It  was  Bence  who 
now  feasted  and  flattered  the  municipal  authorities,  exactly 
as  Mrs.  Thompson  had  done  years  ago.  Dinners  to  alder- 
men and  councillors;  soirees  and  receptions  for  their  wives; 
compliments,  largesse,  confidential  attention  flowing  out  in  a 
generous  stream  for  the  benefit  of  all  —  high  and  low  — 
who  could  possibly  assist  or  hinder  the  welfare  of  Bence! 
Last  Christmas  —  by  way  of  inaugurating  his  twentieth 
grand  annual  bazaar  —  he  gave  a  ball  to  four  hundred 
people,  with  a  military  band  and  a  champagne  sit-down 
supper. 

The  ancient  aldermen  were  nearly  all  gone;  the  council 
nowadays  professed  themselves  to  be  advocates  of  modern 
ideas;  they  said  the  conditions  of  life  are  always  changing; 
and  they  were  ready  to  admit  the  new  style  of  trade  as 
fundamentally  correct.  Then,  making  speeches  after  snug 
Bence-provided  banquets,  they  said  that  their  host  represented 
in  himself  and  his  career  the  Spirit  of  the  Age.  They  raised 
their  glasses  in  a  toast  which  all  would  honour,  "  Mr. 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Archibald  Bence,  you  are  a  credit  to  the  town  of  Mailing- 
bridge;  and  speaking  for  the  town,  I  say  the  town  is  proud 
of  you,  sir.  .  .  .  Now,  gentlemen,  give  him  a  chorus 
— '  For  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow  ' :  ... 

Bence  never  stopped  their  music.  He  sat  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  twirling  his  waxed  moustache,  fingering  his  jew- 
elled studs,  and  smiling  enigmatically  —  as  if  he  considered 
the  adulation  of  his  guests  quite  natural  and  proper,  or  as  if 
he  felt  amused  by  vulgar  praise  and  a  homage  which  could 
be  purchased  with  a  little  meat  and  drink. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Bence,  rising  to  return  thanks,  and 
addressing  the  assemblage  in  the  usual  tone  of  mock  modesty, 
"  I  am  overwhelmed  by  your  good-nature.  I  lay  no  claim  to 
merit.  The  most  I  ever  say  of  myself  is  that  I  do  work 
hard,  and  try  my  best.  But  I  have  been  very  lucky.  Any- 
body could  have  done  what  I  have  done,  if  they  had  been 
given  the  same  opportunity  —  and  the  same  support." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  noisy  guests.  "  Not  one  in  a  million. 
No  one  but  yourself,  Mr.  Bence.  That's  why  we're  so 
proud  of  you." 

And  just  as  the  town  had  turned  towards  Bence  in  his 
prosperity,  so  it  had  turned  away  from  Mrs.  Marsden  in  her 
adversity.  These  people  worshipped  success,  and  nothing 
else.  The  old  shop  was  dying  fast;  its  legend  was  already 
dead.  The  ancient  triumph  of  the  brave  young  widow  was 
thus  in  a  few  years  almost  totally  forgotten.  It  was  a  fabled 
greatness  that  faded  before  her  present  insignificance.  There 
were  of  course  some  who  still  remembered ;  but  they  did  not 
trouble  to  sustain  or  revive  her  name  and  fame. 

Did  she  know  how  they  spoke  of  her  —  these  few  who 
remembered  ? 

A  pitiful  story:  a  poor  wretch  who  posed  for  a  little 
while  as  a  good  woman  of  business,  and  got  absurd  kudos 
for  what  was  sheer  luck.  Just  clever  enough  to  make  a 
little  money  in  propitious  times;  but  without  staying  power, 

277 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

unable  to  adapt  herself  to  new  methods  —  a  stupid  woman, 
really!  That  was  the  kindest  talk.  Others,  who  should 
have  been  grateful  and  did  not  care  to  pay  their  debts,  spoke 
of  her  as  a  criminal.  "  I  never  forgave  her  that  disgraceful 
marriage.  I  endeavoured  to  prevent  it,  and  warned  her 
what  would  be  the  consequence  of  her  —  say  her  folly;  but 
I  think  one  would  be  justified  in  using  a  stronger  word. 
Well,  she  has  made  her  bed ;  and  she  must  lie  upon  it." 

On  a  cold  winter  evening,  when  she  had  walked  to  the 
railway  station  wrth  Enid  and  was  finding  her  a  seat  in  the 
local  train,  a  porter  officiously  pointed  out  Bence. 

"There!  That's  Mr.  Bence,  ma'am.  Mr.  Bence  — 
the  small  gentleman !  " 

The  local  train  was  on  one  side  of  the  platform,  and  on 
the  other  stood  the  London  express.  And  Bence,  in  fur 
coat  and  glossy  topper,  surrounded  with  sycophantic  in- 
spectors and  ticket-collectors,  was  approaching  the  Pullman 
car.  He  was  off  to  London,  to  buy  fresh  cargos  of  Leg- 
horn hats  or  whole  warehouses  of  mauve  blouses. 

The  local  train,  with  Enid  in  it,  rolled  away;  and  Mrs. 
Marsden,  a  shabby  insignificant  black  figure,  remained 
motionless,  waving  a  pocket  handkerchief  and  staring  wist- 
fully at  the  receding  train.  Then,  as  Bence  came  bustling 
from  the  Pullman  door  to  the  book-stall  at  the  end  of  the 
platform,  he  and  Mrs.  Marsden  met  face  to  face. 

It  was  a  strange  encounter.  Intelligent  onlookers,  if 
there  had  been  any  on  the  platform,  might  have  found  food 
for  much  thought  in  studying  this  chance  meeting  between 
the  Spirit  of  the  age  and  the  Ghost  of  the  past. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  conqueror's  exultant  air  in 
Bence's  low  bow.  He  uncovered  his  bald  head  and  bowed 
deeply,  with  ostentatious  humbleness  and  almost  excessive 
respect  —  as  if  magnanimously  determined  to  show  that 
greatness  though  fallen  was  still  greatness  to  him. 

278 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

And  there  was  nothing  of  the  conquered  in  Mrs.  Mars- 
den's  dignified  acknowledgment  of  the  passing  courtesy. 
Bowing,  she  looked  at  Bence  and  through  Bence;  and  her 
face  seemed  calm,  cold,  dispassionate:  as  absolutely  devoid 
of  trouble  or  resentment  as  if  one  of  the  ticket-collectors 
whom  she  used  to  tip  had  touched  his  hat  to  her. 

None  of  these  greedy  ruffians  did  salute  her.  In  all  the 
station,  through  which  she  used  to  pass  as  a  queen,  only  little 
Bence  showed  her  a  sign  of  respect  to-night. 

In  her  deserted  shop  there  were  still  faithful  hearts;  out- 
side the  shop,  in  all  Mallingbridge,  it  seemed  as  if  she  could 
not  count  more  than  one  true  friend. 

Prentice  was  true  as  the  magnet  to  the  pole.  For  a  long 
time  he  had  asked  her  no  questions,  given  her  no  advice; 
and  she  told  him  nothing  of  her  affairs,  either  commercial 
or  domestic.  But  he  guessed  that  things  were  going  from 
bad  to  worse.  He  knew  that  she  was  more  and  more  fre- 
quently at  the  offices  of  Hyde  &  Collins.  He  saw  her  en- 
tering their  front  door  almost  as  often  as  he  saw  Bence 
entering  it;  and  he  interpreted  these  visits  as  a  certain  in- 
dication that  they  were  still  raising  money  for  her.  She 
had  probably  sold  the  last  of  her  stocks  and  shares,  and  now 
they  were  helping  her  to  get  rid  of  the  small  remainder  of 
her  possessions.  He  knew  of  two  or  three  houses  in  River 
Street,  and  of  a  moderate  mortgage  on  this  property.  Hyde 
&  Collins  might  effect  a  second  mortgage  perhaps;  and  then 
the  houses  would  be  practically  gone,  as  everything  else  had 
gone  —  into  the  bottomless  pit.  They  would  not  care  how 
quickly  she  beggared  herself.  When  she  was  squeezed  dry, 
they  would  just  shut  the  door  in  her  face.  Insolent,  un- 
scrupulous brutes!  And  he  thought  with  anger  of  how 
cavalierly  they  would  treat  her  even  now,  before  the  end: 
breaking  their  appointments,  telling  her  to  call  again,  leay- 

279 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

ing  her  to  wait  in  outer  rooms  while  they  kow-towed  to  their 
best  client,  their  only  prosperous  client,  the  omnipotent 
Bence. 

To  the  mind  of  loyal  Prentice  the  utter  downfall  of  Mrs. 
Marsden  was  abominable  and  intolerable.  He  could  not 
bear  it  —  this  wreck  of  a  life  that  had  been  so  noble.  His 
hope  of  saving  something  from  the  wreck  was  cruelly  frus- 
trated. He  had  tried  again  and  again;  but  she  would  not 
listen,  she  would  not  be  guided. 

He  thought  sadly  of  the  bright  past,  of  her  talent  and 
genius;  and,  above  all,  of  her  tremendous  intellectual 
strength.  In  those  days,  when  he  began  to  unfold  a  matter 
of  business,  she  stopped  him  before  he  had  completed  half 
a  dozen  sentences.  It  was  enough —  she  had  grasped  the 
whole  position,  sent  beams  from  the  search-light  of  her  in- 
telligence flashing  all  round  it,  shown  him  essential  points 
that  he  had  not  seen  himself.  Difficulties  never  frightened 
her;  she  was  subtle  in  defence,  swift  in  attack.  Give  her 
but  a  hint  of  danger,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  armed  and 
ready.  Before  you  knew  what  she  would  be  at,  she  had 
sprung  into  decisive  action;  and  before  you  could  hurry  up 
with  your  feeble  reinforcements,  the  danger  was  over,  the 
battle  had  been  gained. 

But  now  she  was  weak  as  water  —  helpless,  yet  refusing 
help,  hopeless  and  making  hope  impossible,  just  drifting  to 
her  fate.  At  night  Mr.  Prentice  sometimes  could  not  sleep. 
He  lay  awake,  thinking  of  what  it  would  come  to  in  the  end 
—  bankruptcy,  her  little  hoard  squandered,  her  last  penny 
gone  in  the  futile  effort  to  satisfy  her  husband  and  sustain 
the  shop. 

And  then?  She  was  so  proud  that  perhaps  she  might 
not  allow  Enid  to  supply  her  simplest  daily  needs.  He 
tossed  and  turned  restlessly  as  he  thought  of  Enid's  marriage 
settlement;  and,  remembering  some  of  its  ill-advised  clauses, 

280 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

he  felt  stung  by  remorse.  He  had  bungled  the  settlement. 
He  ought  to  have  stood  firm,  and  not  have  permitted  himself 
to  be  overruled  by  the  idiotic  whims  of  a  love-sick  girl  who 
was  being  generous  at  another  person's  expense.  He  blamed 
himself  bitterly  now  for  the  manner  in  which  funds  had  been 
permanently  secured  to  Enid's  worthless  husband.  Of 
course  the  Divorce  Court,  exercising  its  statutory  powers, 
might  wipe  out  the  entire  blunder,  and  handsomely  punish 
the  offender  by  handsomely  benefiting  the  wife;  but  he  had 
small  hope  that  this  would  happen.  No,  the  rascal  Charles 
Kenion,  when  disposed  of,  will  still  enjoy  his  life  interest. 
The  money  that  should  come  back  now  to  the  hand  that 
gave  it  is  gone.  Enid  will  not  have  more  than  she  wants 
for  herself  and  her  child. 

He  could  not  sleep.  The  thought  of  Mrs.  Marsden's 
pride  made  him  shiver.  No  prouder  woman  ever  lived: 
famine  and  cold  would  not  break  her  pride.  He  had 
thought  of  her  in  the  workhouse,  or  an  almshouse,  finishing 
her  days  on  the  bread  of  charity.  But  no  —  great  Heaven ! 

—  she  would  never  consent  to  do  that.     She  would  rather 
sell  matches  in  the  street.     And  he  imagined  her  appearance. 
An  old  woman  in  rags  —  creeping  at  dusk  with  bent  back, 

—  pausing  on  a  country  road  to  hold  her  side  and  cough, — 
lying  down  on  the  frozen  ground  beneath  a  haystack,  and 
dying  in  the  winter  storm. 

He  knew  —  only  too  well  —  that  these  are  the  things 
that  happen:  the  inexorable  facts  of  the  world.  But  never 
should  they  happen  in  this  case  —  not  while  he  had  one  six- 
pence to  rub  against  another. 

He  could  not  go  on  thinking  about  it  without  doing  some- 
thing. So  he  woke  up  his  invalid  wife.  That  seemed  the 
only  thing  he  could  do  just  then;  —  and  he  told  Mrs. 
Prentice  that  she  must  be  kind  to  Mrs.  Marsden;  she  must 
begin  being  kind  the  first  thing  in  the  morning;  she  must 

281 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

write  a  letter,  pay  a  call,  do  something  to  cheer  and  gladden 
his  poor  old  friend. 

Mrs.  Prentice,  an  amiable  nondescript  woman,  readily 
obeyed  her  husband;  and  after  this  nocturnal  conversation 
she  used  frequently  to  wait  upon  Mrs.  Marsden,  often  per- 
suade her  to  go  out  for  a  drive,  and  now  and  then  entice  her 
to  come  and  dine  in  a  quiet  friendly  fashion  without  any 
fuss  or  ceremony.  These  pleasant  evenings  must  have  made 
bright  and  warm  spots  amidst  the  cold  dark  gloom  that  now 
surrounded  Mrs.  Marsden.  At  Mr.  Prentice's  comfortable 
private  house  she  was  treated  with  an  honour  to  which  she 
had  been  long  unaccustomed;  there  was  nothing  here  to  re- 
mind her  of  her  troubles;  and  she  really  appeared  to  forget 
them  when  chatting  freely  with  her  kind  host  and  hostess. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Prentice,  it  is  too  good  of  you  to  let  me 
drop  in  on  you  like  this." 

"  No,  it  is  so  good  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Prentice,  "  to  give 
us  the  pleasure  of  your  company." 

"  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me"  said  Mrs.  Marsden ;  "  and 
I  always  thoroughly  enjoy  myself." 

Mrs.  Prentice  liked  her  better  in  her  adversity  than  in 
her  prosperity.  She  found  it  easy  to  join  her  husband  in 
his  admiration  of  the  fortitude  and  dignity  of  Mrs.  Mars- 
den as  an  ill-used  wife  and  a  broken-down  shopkeeper  — 
now  that  the  fable  of  her  colossal  brain-power  was  finally 
shattered.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Prentice's  naturally  kind  heart 
had  never  opened  to  Mrs.  Marsden  till  the  day  when  Mr. 
Prentice  said  that  his  idol  was  acting  like  a  fool. 

Their  guest  used  to  eat  sparingly,  although  the  hostess 
pressed  her  to  taste  of  every  dish;  and  she  scarcely  drank 
more  than  half  a  glass  of  wine,  although  the  host  had 
brought  out  his  most  highly  prized  vintage;  but  she  talked 
so  cheerfully,  so  calmly,  and  so  wisely,  that  her  society  was 
as  charming  as  it  was  welcome.  Mr.  Prentice,  beaming  on 

282 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

her  and  listening  with  deference  to  her  lightest  words,  was 
especially  delighted  each  time  that  he  recognized  something 
like  a  flash  of  the  old  light. 

Once  they  were  discussing  a  rumour  that  had  just  reached 
Mallingbridge.  It  was  said  that  the  War  Office  had  pur- 
chased a  tract  of  land  on  the  downs,  and  proposed  to  establish 
a  large  permanent  camp  up  there. 

"Half  a  dozen  regiments,  with  all  their  followers  —  an 
invasion !  " 

"  It  will  be  dreadful  for  the  town,"  said  Mrs.  Prentice. 
"  Utterly  destroy  its  character." 

"  That's  what  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Prentice.  "  Do  no  good 
to  anybody." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  "  I  am  inclined  to 
disagree.  Since  the  soldiers  came  to  Ellerford,  trade  —  I 
am  told  —  has  picked  up  wonderfully." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Prentice.  "  But  that's  a  trifling  affair  — 
a  very  small  camp,  compared  with  what  this  would  be." 

"  But,  Mr.  Prentice,"  and  Mrs.  Marsden  smiled ;  "  if  a 
small  camp  does  a  little  good,  why  shouldn't  a  large  camp 
do  a  lot  of  good  ?  " 

It  sounded  quite  simple,  and  yet  only  she  would  have  said 
it.  Mr.  Prentice  laughed.  It  reminded  him  of  the  old 
way  she  had  of  going  straight  to  the  point,  and  flooring  you 
by  a  question  that  seemed  childishly  naive  until  all  at  once  you 
found  you  could  not  answer  it. 

Mrs.  Prentice  continued  to  lament  the  many  degradations 
that  Mallingbridge  had  already  undergone. 

"  The  Theatre  Royal  turned  into  a  music  hall !  The 
Royal!  That  is  the  last  blow.  Three  music  halls  in  the 
place,  and  not  one  theatre  where  you  can  go  and  see  a  real 
play.  ...  I  used  to  love  the  Royal.  It  seemed  a  part 
of  Mallingbridge." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Prentice,"  said  the  guest,  calmly  and 
19  283 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

philosophically,  "  the  town  that  you  and  I  loved  has  gone. 
It  was  inevitable  —  one  can't  put  back  the  clock.  Time 
won't  stand  still  for  us." 

"  No,  but  they're  making  the  new  town  so  ugly,  so  vulgar. 
Whenever  they  pull  down  one  of  the  dear  old  houses,  they 
do  build  such  gimcrack  monstrosities." 

"  I  fancy,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  "  that  the  distance  from 
London  decided  our  destiny.  It  was  just  far  enough  off  to 
reproduce  and  copy  the  metropolis.  Nowadays,  the  little 
places  that  remain  unchanged  are  all  close  to  the  suburban 
boundary." 

When  she  talked  in  this  style,  Prentice  thought  how  ef- 
fectually she  gave  the  lie  to  people  who  said  of  her,  that  she 
had  failed  because  she  lacked  the  faculty  of  appreciating 
altered  conditions. 

"  Did  you  happen,"  she  asked  him,  "  to  read  the  report 
of  the  general  meeting  of  the  railway  company  ?  " 

"No  — I  don't  think  I  did." 

"The  chairman  mentioned  Mallingbridge." 

"What  did  he  say  about  it?" 

"  He  said  that  they  might  before  long  have  to  consider  the 
propriety  of  building  a  new  station,  and  putting  it  on  an- 
other site." 

"  Why  should  they  do  that?  " 

"Why?"  And  again  Mrs.  Marsden  smiled.  "Why 
indeed?  It  set  me  thinking  —  and  I  read  the  speech  care- 
fully. Later  on,  the  chairman  spoke  of  the  scheme  for  mov- 
ing their  carriage  and  engine  works  out  of  the  London  area. 
Well,  I  put  those  two  hints  together;  and  this  is  what  I 
made  of  them.  I  believe  that  the  company  intend  at  last  to 
develop  all  that  land  of  theirs  —  the  fields  by  the  river, — • 
and  I  prophesy  that  within  three  years  they'll  have  built  the 
new  carriage  works  there." 

She  said  this  exactly  as  she  used  to  say  those  luminously 

284 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

clever  things  that  he  remembered  in  the  past.  He  listened 
wonderingly  and  admiringly. 

But  when  the  ladies  left  him  alone  to  smoke  his  cigar  or 
finish  the  wine  that  the  guest  had  neglected,  he  sighed.  She 
could  give  these  flashes  of  the  old  logic  and  insight ;  she  could 
talk  so  wisely  about  matters  that  in  no  way  concerned  her; 
but  in  the  one  great  matter  of  her  own  life,  where  common 
sense  was  most  desperately  required,  she  had  behaved  like  a 
lunatic. 

He  let  his  cigar  go  out,  and  he  could  not  drink  any  more 
wine.  Rain  was  pattering  on  the  windows,  and  the  wind 
moaned  round  the  house  —  a  sad  dark  night.  He  rang  the 
bell,  and  told  the  servant  to  order  a  fly  for  Mrs.  Marsden  at 
a  quarter  to  ten. 

The  fly  took  her  home  comfortably ;  and  when  she  alighted 
at  the  bottom  of  St.  Saviour's  Court  and  offered  the  driver 
something  more  than  his  fare,  he  refused  it. 

"  Mr.  Prentice  paid  me,  ma'am." 

"  Oh !  .  .  .  Then  you  must  accept  this  shilling  for 
yourself." 

"  No,    ma'am.     Mr.    Prentice    tipped    me.     Good-night, 


XXVI 

ENID  was  free.  The  farmhouse  stood  empty,  with  the  ivy 
hanging  in  festoons  and  long  streamers  about  the  windows, 
the  grass  growing  rank  and  strong  over  the  carriage  drive, 
and  a  board  at  the  gate  offering  this  eligible  modernised 
residence  to  be  let  on  lease.  Its  sometime  mistress  had  gone 
with  her  little  daughter  to  the  seaside  for  eight  or  ten 
months.  After  her  stay  at  Eastbourne  she  would  return  to 
Mallingbridge,  and  take  furnished  apartments  —  or  perhaps 
rent  one  of  the  tiny  new  villas  on  the  Linkfield  Road.  She 
wished  to  be  near  her  mother,  and  she  apologized  now  for 
leaving  Mrs.  Marsden  quite  alone  during  so  many  months; 
but,  as  she  explained,  Jane  needed  sea  air. 

"  Never  mind  about  me,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden.  "  Only 
the  child  matters.  Build  up  her  health.  Make  her  strong. 
I  shall  do  very  well  —  though  of  course  I  shall  miss  you 
both." 

She  was  getting  accustomed  to  solitude  and  silence. 
Truly  she  had  never  been  so  entirely  isolated  and  lonely  as 
now.  In  the  far-off  days  when  Enid  used  by  her  absence  to 
produce  a  wide-spreading  sense  of  loss,  there  had  been  the 
work  and  bustle  of  the  thriving  shop  to  counteract  the  void 
and  quiet  of  the  house.  And  there  had  been  Yates.  Now 
there  was  nobody  but  the  plain-faced  grim-mannered  Eliza, 
who  had  become  the  one  general-servant  of  the  broken  home. 

Mr.  Marsden  still  lunched  and  dined  at  the  house,  but 
he  was  never  there  for  breakfast.  He  did  not  go  upstairs  to 
his  bedroom  and  dressing-room  once  in  a  week.  Sometime* 
for  a  fortnight  he  and  his  wife  did  not  meet  at  meals.  His 

286 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

voracious  appetite  manifested  itself  intermittently;  there 
were  days  on  which  he  gorged  like  a  boa-constrictor,  and 
others  on  which  he  felt  disinclined  to  eat  at  all.  Then  he 
required  Eliza  to  tempt  him  with  savoury  highly-spiced  food, 
or  to  devise  some  dainty  surprise  which  would  stimulate  his 
jaded  fancy  and  woo  him  to  a  condescending  patronage.  He 
would  toy  with  a  bird  —  or  a  couple  of  dozen  oysters  —  or 
a  bit  of  pickled  mackerel.  Now  and  then,  after  he  had  been 
drinking  more  heavily  than  usual,  he  would  himself  inspire 
Eliza. 

"Eliza,  I  can't  touch  all  that  muck;"  and  he  pointed 
with  a  slightly  tremulous  hand  at  the  dinner  table.  "  But  I 
believe  I  could  do  with  just  a  simple  hunk  of  bread  and 
cheese,  and  a  quart  of  stout.  Run  out  and  get  some  stout 
—  get  two  or  three  bottles,  with  the  screw  tops.  You  know, 
the  large  bottles." 

Then  perhaps  he  would  find  eventually  that  this  queer 
dinner-menu  was  a  false  inspiration.  The  bread  and  cheese 
were  more  than  he  could  grapple  with  —  and  he  asked  for 
something  else  to  assist  the  stout. 

In  a  word,  he  was  rather  troublesome  about  his  meals; 
and  Mrs.  Marsden  fell  into  the  habit  of  taking  her  scanty 
refreshment  at  irregular  hours.  He  did  not  upbraid  her  for 
keeping  out  of  his  way.  Eliza  looked  after  him  in  a  satis- 
factory manner;  and  he  never  upset  or  frightened  Eliza. 
Grim  Eliza  ran  no  risk  of  receiving  undesired  attentions. 

Everybody  knew  that  Mr.  Marsden  often  drank  too  much. 
One  night  when  he  failed  to  appear  at  dinner  time,  he  was 
found  —  not  by  Eliza  but  by  the  Borough  constabulary  — 
in  a  state  of  total  intoxication  on  the  pavement  outside  the 
Dolphin. 

After  this  regrettable  incident  the  Dolphin  dismissed  him 
and  his  barmaid  together.  The  attendance  at  the  saloon 
had  been  dropping  off.  A  siren  cannot  draw  custom,  when 

287 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

you  have  a  great  hulking  bully  who  sits  in  the  corner  and 
threatens  to  punch  the  head  of  every  inoffensive  moderate- 
sized  gentleman  upon  whom  the  siren  begins  to  exert  her 
spell.  The  Dolphin  was  very  glad  to  see  the  backs  of  Miss 
Ingram  and  her  friend. 

Miss  Ingram  secured  an  engagement  at  the  bar  of  the 
Red  Cow,  and  Mr.  Marsden  faithfully  followed  her  thither. 
The  Red  Cow  was  the  disreputable  betting  public-house  of 
which  the  town  council  were  so  much  ashamed;  people  went 
there  to  bet,  and  it  was  likely  to  lose  its  license;  but  Mars- 
den  was  content  to  make  it  his  temporary  club,  and  indeed 
seemed  to  settle  down  there  comfortably  enough. 

He  still  occasionally  came  to  the  shop.  All  eyes  were 
averted  when  he  swung  one  of  the  street  doors  and  slouched 
in.  He  seemed  to  know  and  almost  to  admit  that  he  was  a 
disgrace  and  an  eyesore,  and  though  he  scowled  at  the  shop- 
walker swiftly  dodging  away  and  diving  into  the  next  de- 
partment, he  did  not  bellow  a  reprimand.  He  hurried  up 
the  shop;  and  it  was  only  when  he  got  behind  the  glass  that 
he  attempted  to  display  anything  like  the  old  swagger  and 
bluster. 

"Well,  Mears,  what's  the  best  news  with  you?  .  .  . 
You  all  look  as  if  you  were  starting  for  a  funeral  —  as  black 
as  a  lot  of  mutes.  How's  business?"  And  he  began  to 
whistle,  or  to  rattle  the  bunch  of  duplicate  shop-keys  that  he 
carried  in  his  trousers  pocket.  "  I  say,  Mears,  old  pal  — 
I'm  run  dry.  Can't  you  and  the  missus  do  an  advance  — 
something  on  account  —  however  small  —  to  keep  me 
going  ?  " 

A  few  shillings  were  generally  produced,  and  the  advance 
was  solemnly  entered  in  the  books,  to  the  governor's 
name. 

Then  he  nearly  always  announced  that  he  had  come  to  the 
shop  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  a  business  appointment. 

288 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Look  here.  I'm  expecting  a  gentleman.  Show  him 
straight  in." 

These  gentlemen  were  more  dreadful  to  look  at  than  the 
governor  himself.  He  gave  appointments  to  most  terrific 
blacklegs  —  the  unwashed  rabble  of  the  Red  Cow,  book- 
makers and  their  clerks,  race-course  touts, —  inviting  them  to 
the  shop  in  order  to  establish  his  credit,  and  prove  to  these 
seedy  wretches  that  he  was  veritably  the  Marsden  of 
Thompson  &  Marsden 's. 

For  such  interviews  he  used  to  turn  his  wife  out  of  the 
room.  At  a  word  she  meekly  left  the  American  desk  and 
walked  out. 

"  That  you,  Rooney?  Come  into  my  office.  Here  I  am, 
you  see.  Sit  down." 

The  Red  Cow  gentlemen  were  overcome  by  the  grandeur 
of  Mr.  Marsden  in  his  own  office;  the  size  and  magnificence 
of  the  establishment  filled  them  with  awe  and  envy;  it  sur- 
passed belief. 

"  Blow  me,  but  it's  true,"  they  said  afterwards.  "  Every 
word  what  he  told  us  is  the  Gospel  truth.  He's  the  boss 
of  the  whole  show.  I  witnessed  it  with  my  own  eyes." 

Yet  if  his  visitors  had  possessed  real  business  acumen,  the 
shop  would  have  impressed  them  with  anything  but  confi- 
dence. 

To  a  trade  expert  one  glance  would  have  sufficed.  The 
forlorn  aspect  of  the  ruined  shop  told  the  gloomy  facts  with 
unmistakable  clearness.  So  few  assistants,  so  pitiably  few 
customers,  such  a  beggarly  array  of  goods!  Those  shelves 
have  all  been  dressed  with  dummies;  those  rolls  of  rich  silk 
are  composed  of  a  wooden  block,  some  paper,  and  half  a 
yard  of  soiled  material;  within  those  huge  presses  you  will 
find  only  darkness.  Emptiness,  desolation,  death! 

And  what  could  not  be  seen  could  readily  be  guessed. 
Behind  the  glass  only  two  people  —  a  man  laboriously  mud- 

289 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

dling  with  unfilled  ledgers,  a  girl  at  a  type-writing  machine 
—  only  one  type-writer,  a  sadly  feeble  clicking  in  the  midst 
of  vast  unoccupied  space;  not  a  sound  in  the  covered  yard; 
no  horses,  no  carts ;  no  purchased  goods  to  be  handled  in  the 
immense  packing  rooms;  no  stock,  no  cash,  no  credit,  no 
nothing ! 

When  a  customer  appeared,  the  shop  seemed  to  stir  un- 
easily in  the  sleep  that  was  so  like  death;  a  faint  vibra- 
tion disturbed  the  heavy  atmosphere;  shop-walkers  flitted  to 
and  fro;  assistants  yawned  and  stretched  themselves.  What 
is  it  ?  Yes,  it  is  another  customer. 

"  What  can  we  show  madam  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  wanted  —  but  really  I  think  I've  made  a  mis- 
take — "  and  the  stranger  looked  about  her,  and  seemed  per- 
plexed. "  My  friends  said  it  was  in  High  Street  —  but  I 
see  this  isn't  it.  Yes,  I've  made  a  mistake.  Good  morning." 

"  Good  morning,  madam." 

The  bright  spring  sunshine  pouring  in  at  the  windows  lit 
up  the  threadbare,  colourless  matting,  showed  the  dust  that 
danced  above  the  parquet  after  each  footfall;  but  it  could 
not  reach  the  great  mirror  on  the  stairs.  The  mirrors  were 
growing  dimmer  and  dimmer.  As  the  black  figure  passed 
and  repassed,  the  first  reflected  Mrs.  Marsden  was  scarcely 
less  vague  and  unsubstantial  than  the  line  of  Mrs.  Mars- 
dens  walking  by  her  side. 

Mr.  Mears  and  Miss  Woolfrey,  disconsolately  pacing  the 
lower  and  the  upper  floor,  seemed  like  captains  of  a  ship  be- 
calmed —  like  honest  captains  of  a  water-logged  ship,  feeling 
it  tremble  and  shiver  as  it  settled  down  beneath  their  feet, 
knowing  that  it  was  soon  to  sink,  and  thinking  that  they 
were  ready  to  go  down  with  it.  When  they  paused  in  their 
rounds  of  inspection,  it  was  because  really  there  was  nothing 
to  inspect.  They  turned  their  heads  and  looked,  from  be- 
hind the  dusty  piles  of  carpets  or  the  trays  of  fly-blown  china, 

290 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

at  the  establishment  over  the  way  —  looked  from  death  to 
life;  and  for  a  few  minutes  watched  the  jostling  crowd 
and  the  brilliant  range  of  colours  on  the  other  side  of  the 
road. 

No  dust  there.  Here,  it  was  impossible  to  prevent  the 
dust.  The  dust-sheets  were  in  tatters;  the  brooms  and 
sprinklers  were  worn  out;  there  were  not  enough  hands  to 
sweep  and  rub.  Mears  himself  looked  dusty. 

And  when  the  sunlight  fell  upon  him,  he  looked  very  old, 
very  grey,  and  rather  shaky.  He  never  blew  out  his  cheeks 
or  swished  his  coat-tails  now.  The  voluminous  frock-coat 
seemed  several  sizes  too  large  for  him;  it  was  greasy  at  the 
elbows,  and  frayed  at  the  cuffs.  The  salary  of  Mears  was 
hopelessly  in  arrear.  For  a  long  time  Mears,  like  the  gov- 
ernor, had  found  himself  obliged  to  crave  for  something  on 
account  —  just  to  keep  going  with. 

One  sunny  April  day  Marsden  entered  the  shop  about 
noon,  went  into  the  office;  and,  not  discovering  his  wife 
there,  ordered  the  type-writing  girl  to  fetch  her  immediately. 

"  What  is  it,  Richard  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  presently 
appearing. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are  —  at  last.  You  never  seem  to  be 
in  your  right  place  when  you're  wanted.  I've  been  waiting 
here  five  minutes  —  and  not  a  soul  on  the  lookout  to  re- 
ceive people." 

"  I  am  sorry." 

"  Anybody  could  walk  in  from  the  street  and  march  slap 
into  this  room,  without  being  asked  who  he  was  and  what 
his  business  was.  And  a  nice  idea  it  would  give  a  stranger 
cf  our  management." 

"  I  am  sorry.     But  was  that  all  you  had  to  say  to  me?  " 

"  No.  Look  here,"  he  went  on  grumblingly.  "  Bence, 
if  you  please,  has  asked  me  for  an  appointment." 

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MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Will  you  see  him?" 

"Yes  — I  think  so." 

"  Very  good." 

"  Yes,  I've  told  the  little  bounder  I'll  see  him." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  be  present  at  the  interview  ?  " 

"No  — better  not." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards  Mr.  Archibald  Bence 
was  coming  up  the  empty  shop.  It  was  years  since  he  had 
crossed  the  threshold;  and  certainly  his  eyes  were  expert 
enough  to  see  now,  if  he  cared  to  look  about  him,  the  dire 
results  of  his  implacable  rivalry.  But  he  showed  nothing  in 
his  face:  smugly  self-possessed,  smilingly  imperturbable,  he 
followed  the  shop-walker  straight  to  the  counting-house. 

The  shop-walker  announced  him  at  the  door  of  the  inner 
room,  and  he  marched  in.  He  bowed  low,  as  Mrs.  Mars- 
den,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  passed  out.  Then 
Marsden  shut  the  door. 

But  upstairs  and  downstairs  the  dull  air  vibrated  as  if 
electric  discharges  were  passing  through  it  in  all  directions; 
the  whole  shop  stirred  and  throbbed;  the  whispering  as- 
sistants quivered.  "Did  you  see  him?"  "I  couldn't  get 
a  peep  at  him."  "  I  just  saw  the  top  of  his  hat."  Bence 
had  come  to  call  upon  the  governor.  Bence  was  in  the 
shop.  That  great  man  was  behind  their  glass. 

Soon  they  heard  sounds  of  the  noisy  interview  —  at  least, 
Marsden  was  making  a  lot  of  noise.  The  minutes  seemed 
long;  but  there  were  only  five  or  six  of  them  before  the 
counting-house  doors  opened  and  Bence  reappeared.  He 
was  perfectly  calm,  talking  quietly  and  politely,  though  the 
governor  bellowed. 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Marsden,  don't  excite  yourself.  I  only 
asked  a  question." 

"  Yes,  a  blasted  impertinent  one." 

"  Well,  no  bones  broken,  anyhow,"  and  Bence  smiled. 
292 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  If  you  should  ever  change  your  mind  —  come  over  the 
road,  and  let  me  know." 

"  I'll  see  you  damned  first." 

Nothing,  however,  could  ruffle  Bence. 

"  Just  so.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  if  you  ever  should 
care  to  do  business  —  well,  I'm  not  far  off.  Good  morning 
to  you." 

Mrs.  Marsden,  when  she  returned  to  the  inner  room, 
found  her  husband  standing  near  the  desk,  sullenly  scowling 
at  the  floor. 

"  I  was  a  fool  to  swear  at  him.  I  ought  to  have  kicked 
him  down  the  shop.  .  .  .  Can  you  guess  what  he  came 
about?" 

"  I'm  not  clever  at  guessing.     I'll  wait  till  you  tell  me." 

"  He  wanted  us  to  close  more  than  half  the  shop,  and 
sublet  it  to  him  for  the  remainder  of  the  lease."  And  Mars- 
den  sullenly  and  growlingly  described  the  details  of  this  im- 
pudent proposal.  Bence  suggested  that  the  yard  and  the  new 
packing  rooms  could  be  used  by  him  as  a  warehouse;  that 
all  departments  to  the  west  of  the  silk  counter  might  be 
transferred  to  the  eastern  side;  that  he  would  build  a  party 
wall  at  his  own  expense,  and  use  all  this  western  block  "  for 
one  thing  or  another."  Bence's  question  in  plain  words 
therefore  was,  Would  they  now  confess  to  the  universe  that 
their  premises  were  about  four  times  too  big  for  their  trade? 

"  Not  to  be  thought  of,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden. 

"No.  I  suppose  not;"  and  Marsden  glanced  at  her 
furtively,  and  then  rattled  the  keys  in  his  pocket.  "  We 
won't  think  of  it." 


XXVII 

ANOTHER  month  had  gone,  and  the  end  of  all  things  was 
approaching. 

"  Jane,"  said  Marsden,  "  we're  beat.  We'd  better  own  it. 
We  are  beat  to  the  world.  It's  no  good  going  on." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

It  was  a  dull  and  depressing  afternoon  —  the  sky  obscured 
by  heavy  clouds,  a  little  rain  falling  at  intervals, —  so  dark 
in  the  room  behind  the  glass  that  Mrs.  Marsden  was  com- 
pelled to  switch  on  the  electric  light  above  the  American 
desk.  She  had  turned  in  her  chair,  and  was  watching  her 
husband's  face  intently;  and  the  light  from  the  lamp  showed 
that  her  own  face  had  become  extraordinarily  pale. 

"  It's  no  good,  Jane.  You  must  see  it  just  the  same  as  I 
do.  We're  done  —  and  the  only  thing  is  to  consider  how  we 
are  to  escape  a  smash." 

Then  he  told  her  that  Bence  had  offered  to  buy  them  out. 
Bence  was  ready  to  swallow  them  whole.  Bence  was  pre- 
pared to  give  them  a  fair  price  for  their  entire  property  — 
long  lease  of  the  premises,  stock,  fittings,  assets,  the  complete 
bag  of  tricks.  He  would  take  it  over  as  a  still  going  con- 
cern, with  all  its  debts  and  liabilities.  If  they  accepted 
Bence's  offer,  they  would  merely  have  to  put  the  money  in 
their  pockets,  and  could  wash  their  hands  of  a  bitterly  bad 
job. 

"  Don't  talk  so  loud.     Someone  may  hear  you." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  there's  no  one  outside,  except  Miss 
O'Donnell ;  and  you  can  hear  her  machine  —  so  she  can't  be 

294 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

eavesdropping.     .     .     .     I'll  give  you  my  reasons  for  saying 
it's  a  fair  price." 

"  Yes,  please  do.  .  .  .  You  haven't  mentioned  the 
amount  yet." 

"  I'm  coming  to  it.  I  want  to  prepare  your  mind.  Of 
course  I  don't  know  how  it  will  strike  you."  .  .  . 

"  Go  on,  please." 

"  First  of  all,  I'll  say  I'm  certain  it's  more  than  we  should 
get  from  anyone  else.  I've  gone  to  the  root  of  everything. 
I  have  worked  it  out  with  plain  figures.  .  .  .  Well, 
then  —  Bence  will  give  six  thousand  pounds." 

"  No,  I  won't  accept  the  offer." 

"  It  would  be  three  thousand  apiece." 

"  I  refuse  to  agree  to  the  sale." 

"  It  will  be  ready  money,  you  know  —  paid  on  the  nail." 

"  Richard,  I  can't  agree  to  it." 

"Why  not?  Of  course  I  know  I  can't  jump  you  into  it. 
I  don't  want  to  do  so.  I  simply  want  to  persuade  you  that 
it's  our  only  course." 

Then  he  began  to  argue  and  plead  with  her.  He  said 
that  he  considered  it  would  be  madness  obstinately  to  decline 
such  an  opportunity,  and  she  ought  really  to  be  grateful  to 
him  for  cutting  the  knot  of  their  difficulties.  He  explained 
that  only  two  days  after  Bence's  memorable  visit,  he  had 
gone  across  the  road  and  reopened  negotiations  on  a  wider 
scale.  He  owned  that  he  had  at  first  resented  the  approach 
of  Bence  as  a  gross  insult ;  he  had  felt  disposed  to  kick  Bence ; 
but  afterwards,  calmly  thinking  it  over,  he  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  Bence — "if  properly  handled" — might 
eventually  prove  their  best  friend.  In  this  softer,  calmer 
mood,  he  had  made  a  return  call  on  Bence  —  had  handled 
him  magnificently,  had  bluffed  him  and  jollied  him,  had 
slowly  but  surely  screwed  him  up  to  make  a  splendid  and 
a  firm  offer. 

295 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  But,  Richard,  supposing  that  we  were  to  sell  the  busi- 
ness, what  would  happen  to  you  ?  " 

"I  should  go  away  —  to  California.  I'm  sick  of  this 
stinking  town.  It's  played  out  for  me.  At  Mallingbridge 
I'm  a  dead-beat  —  people  don't  believe  in  me  —  I've  no  real 
friends.  But  I  should  do  all  right  out  West  —  and  I  want 
a  decent  climate.  Between  you  and  me  and  the  post,  I  funk 
another  English  winter." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  want  to  desert  me  altogether  ?  " 

"  Jane,  what's  the  use  of  asking  me  that?  You  and  I  have 
got  to  the  end  of  our  tether,  haven't  we?  What  good  can  I 
do  sticking  here  any  longer  ?  I  can't  help  you  —  I  can't  help 
myself.  We're  done.  You'd  far  wiser  divide  what  we  can 
grab  from  Bence,  and  let  me  go." 

"  But  to  a  person  of  your  tastes  and  habits,  three 
thousand  pounds  is  not  an  inexhaustible  sum.  Do  you 
think  that,  as  your  entire  capital,  it  would  be  enough  for 
you?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  he  said  eagerly.  "  Life  is  cheaper  out  there. 
In  that  lovely  climate  one  doesn't  want  to  binge  up.  There 
aren't  the  same  temptations.  I  should  turn  over  a  new  leaf 
—  put  the  brake  on  —  make  a  fresh  start." 

"  And  should  I  never  see  you  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  say  that.  No  —  of  course  I  should  come 
back.  I  don't  see  what  real  difference  it  would  make  to  you. 
We're  a  semi-detached  couple,  as  it  is." 

"Yes,  but  not  quite  detached." 

"  Well,  you'd  let  me  go  on  a  little  longer  string.  That's 
all  about  it ;  "  a*hd  he  laughed  good-humouredly.  He  be- 
lieved that  he  would  soon  overcome  her  opposition.  "  I 
never  meant  any  total  severance,  you  know.  We  should  be 
like  the  swells  —  Mrs.  Marsden  is  residing  at  Malling- 
bridge; Mr.  Marsden  has  gone  to  the  Pacific  Coast  for  the 
winter.  We'd  put  it  in  the  paper,  if  you  liked." 

296 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  I  see  that  you  are  very  keen  to  close  with  —  with  Mr, 
Bence's  proposal." 

"  Yes,  I  am  —  and  I  honestly  believe  you  ought  to  be  just 
as  keen." 

And  again  he  extolled  his  personal  merit  in  screwing  up 
the  proposer.  Bence  had  pointed  out  that  if  he  quietly 
waited  until  Thompson  &  Marsden  were  forced  as  bankrupts 
to  put  up  their  shutters,  he  would  buy  all  he  wanted  at  a 
much  lower  price.  The  premises,  and  the  premises  only, 
were  what  Bence  wanted.  After  a  bankruptcy  he  could  buy 
the  lease  at  the  market  price,  and  not  have  to  give  a  penny 
for  anything  else.  Bence  said  his  offer  was  extravagantly 
liberal;  but  he  frankly  admitted  that  he  felt  in  a  hurry  to 
clear  up  the  street,  and  make  it  neat  and  tidy.  He  would 
therefore  fork  out  thus  handsomely  to  avoid  delay. 

"  He  said  we  were  doing  the  street  harm,  Jane.  And, 
upon  my  word,  I  couldn't  deny  that.  I've  often  told  Mears 
we  have  got  to  look  more  like  a  funeral  than  anything  else." 

"  And  you  wish  us  to  be  decently  buried  ?  " 

He  laughed  and  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  the  utmost 
good-humour.  He  felt  sure  now  that  she  would  yield; 
and  with  increasing  eagerness  he  urged  her  to  adopt  his 
views. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said  at  last.     "  It  is  your  wish?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is." 

"  Then  on  one  condition,"  and  she  spoke  in  a  hard,  matter- 
of-fact  voice, — "  on  one  condition,  I'll  consent." 

"  What's  your  condition  ?  " 

"  When  we  wind  up  our  business  relatiohs,  we  must  wind 
up  all  our  other  relations.  ...  It  must  be  a  total  sev- 
erance—  I  am  using  your  own  word  —  and  no  half  meas- 
ures. When  you  leave  Mallingbridge  you  must  leave  it  for- 
ever. You  must  undertake  —  bind  yourself  never  to  set  foot 
in  it  again." 

297 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Oh,  I  say." 

"  You  must  execute  a  deed  of  separation." 

He  seemed  greatly  surprised;  and  for  a  little  while  hesi- 
tated, as  if  unable  to  express  his  thoughts. 

"  Look  here,  Jane.  .  .  .  You're  talking  big,  old  lady. 
What  next?  .  .  .  Deed  of  separation!  That's  a  very 
large  order." 

"  You  are  taking  freedom  for  yourself.  You  must  give 
me  freedom." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  overdo  that  line,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  told 
you  I  would  come  back  —  some  day  or  other.  Yet  now  you 
take  up  this  high  and  mighty  tone  —  as  though  I  had  given 
you  the  right  to  cut  me  adrift  altogether." 

"Ah!  I  understand.  You  thought  you'd  have  your 
three  thousand  to  spend,  and  my  three  thousand  to  fall  back 
upon.  Then  again  I  refuse  the  offer." 

"  Don't  be  hasty  —  and  don't  impute  bad  motives  where 
none  exist.  No,  you  have  struck  me  all  of  a  heap  by  what 
you  demand.  I  wasn't  prepared  for  it  —  and  it  wants  a  bit 
of  thought,  before  I  can  say  yes  or  no." 

And  he  began  to  bargain  about  the  deed  of  separation. 
He  had  seen  an  unexpected  chance,  and  he  meant  to  make  the 
most  of  it. 

"  Let's  be  business-like,  Jane.  If  I  renounce  all  claims  on 
you  forever  —  if  I  agree  to  make  a  formal  renunciation, — 
well,  surely  that's  worth  something  to  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean,  worth  money  ?  Are  you  asking  me  to  pay 
you?" 

"  I  want  to  start  a  new  life  out  there  —  and  I  shall  need 
all  the  money  I  can  get.  You  told  me  so,  yourself  —  three 
thou.  is  devilish  little  to  face  the  world  on." 

"Yes,"  she  said  quietly,  "and  with  another  person  de- 
pendent on  you." 

"What  do  you  say?" 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  I  say,  you  are  not  going  alone.  .  .  .  We  must  think 
of  your  companion,  as  well  as  of  yourself." 

"  Jane,  you're  hard  on  me." 

"Am  I?" 

And  the  bargaining  went  on. 

Finally  they  came  to  terms.  She  was  to  give  him  half  her 
share,  in  exchange  for  absolute  freedom.  He  would  thus 
have  four  thousand  five  hundred  pounds  as  initial  impetus 
for  his  new  career. 

"  Do  you  say  done  to  that?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  coldly  and  firmly,  "  I  say  done." 

He  sat  down,  drew  out  a  dirty  handkerchief,  and  wiped 
his  forehead.  His  argumentative  efforts  had  made  him 
warm ;  but  he  smiled  contentedly.  He  considered  that  "  in 
the  circs."  it  was  a  jolly  good  bargain. 

"  Dick,"  and  her  voice  suddenly  softened.  "  Have  you 
thought  what  /  am  to  do?  Fifteen  hundred  pounds  isn't 
much  for  me  —  to  start  a  new  life  with." 

"  You  have  money  of  your  own.  ...  I  am  certain 
that  you  have  a  tidy  nest-egg  still." 

"  If  I  were  to  tell  you  that  I  hadn't  another  penny  in 
the  world?" 

"  I  shouldn't  believe  it." 

"  If  I  convinced  you  that  it  was  literally  true,  would  it 
make  any  difference  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  follow." 

"  Would  you  still  take  half  my  share  from  me?  " 

"  What's  the  good  of  talking  about  it  ?  "  And  he  looked 
at  her  thoughtfully.  "  Jane,  the  devil  is  driving  me.  I'm 
not  the  man  I  was.  I  funk  dangers.  My  health  is  broken. 
.  .  .  You'll  be  all  right.  You  have  friends.  I  have 
none.  It's  vital  to  me  to  know  that  we  —  that  I  shall  have 
enough  to  rub  along  with  out  there." 

Mrs.  Marsden  said  no  more. 
20  299 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Yes,  you'll  be  all  right,  old  girl.  Never  fear!"  And 
he  got  up,  and  stretched  himself.  "  But  I  say!  We've  been 
jawing  such  a  deuce  of  a  time  that  it'll  be  too  late  to  do 
anything  to-day,  unless  we  look  sharp.  .  .  .  Will  you 
give  me  a  letter  to  Hyde  &  Collins,  saying  you  accept?  " 

"  No,  I'll  go  there,  and  tell  them  by  word  of  mouth." 

"  May  I  go  with  you  ?  " 

"  No,  that's  unnecessary." 

"  But  you  will  go,  Jane  ?  I  mean,  at  once.  You  do  in- 
tend to  go  —  and  no  rot  ?  " 

"  I  have  told  you  I  am  going." 

"Yes,  but  hurry  up  then.  They  don't  keep  open  all 
night." 

"  I'll  tell  them  within  an  hour." 

Within  an  hour  she  had  spoken  to  Mr.  Bence's  solicitors 
and  gone  on  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Prentice. 

"  Now,"  she  said  to  her  old  friend,  "  you  see  me  in  my 
need.     The  time  has  come.     Help  me  with  all  your  power." 
Then  very  rapidly  she  told  him  all  that  had  happened. 
"  So  there  goes  the  end  of  an  old  song,"  said  Mr.  Pren- 
tice.    "  Mind  you,  I  don't  tell  you  that  you  are  doing  wrong. 
It  may  be  —  probably  it  is  —  the  only  thing  to  do.     ... 
Six  thousand  pounds!"     It  was  obvious  that  Mr.  Prentice 
had  been  astonished  by  the  largeness  of  this  sum.     But  he 
would  not  admit  the  fact.     He  spoke  cautiously. 
"  It  is  more  than  anyone  else  would  have  given." 
"  Possibly !     But  I  might  have  got  you  better  terms  from 
Bence.     Let  me  take  up  the  negotiations  now.     If  he  will 
give  as  much  as  six  thousand,  he  may  give  more." 
"  No,  I  have  told  Hyde  &  Collins  that  we  accept." 
"  That  was  premature.     But  you  referred  them  to  me  ?  " 
"  No.     I  told  them  to  prepare  the  conveyance  at  once." 
"  But  —  good  gracious  —  they  can't  act  for  both  sides." 
300 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Of  course  they  can.  It  will  save  time  —  it  will  save 
money.  There  is  no  difficulty  there.  We  sell  all  we  have. 
A  child  could  carry  it  through." 

"  Oh,  but  really,  I  don't  know.  Your  interests  must  be 
guarded." 

"  No,  no."  She  was  nervous  and  excited,  and  she  spoke 
piteously  and  yet  irritably.  "  I  have  instructed  them.  They 
must  attend  to  the  sale.  And  you  must  attend  to  the  deed  of 
separation.  Concentrate  your  mind  —  all  your  mind  on  it. 
.  .  .  Don't  you  understand,  don't  you  see  that  this  is 
everything  and  the  sale  is  nothing?" 

"  No,  I  don't  see  that  at  all." 

"  It  is  what  I  have  been  praying  for  night  and  day  —  it  is 
my  escape.  And  he  is  granting  it  to  me  of  his  own  consent 

—  he  consents  to  give  me  unmolested  freedom." 

And  she  implored  Mr.  Prentice  to  use  his  skill  and  sagacity 
to  their  uttermost  extent. 

"  I  want  it  to  be  a  renunciation  of  all  possible  claims.  It 
must  be  absolutely  clear  that  this  is  the  end  of  our  partner- 
ship. 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  "  the  partnership 
ends  automatically  with  the  sale  of  the  business." 

"  But  put  it  in  the  deed  —  explicitly.  Make  him  surren- 
der every  claim  —  even  if  it  seems  to  you  only  the  shadow  of 
a  claim." 

Then,  without  saying  that  she  was  to  pay  a  price  for 
Marsden's  acquiescence,  she  repeated  the  agreed  conditions  of 
the  separation.  She  became  agitated  when  Mr.  Prentice 
assured  her  that  he  would  easily  draft  the  deed. 

"  No,  don't  treat  it  as  an  easy  task.     Get  counsel's  opinion 

—  the  best  counsel.     Spare  no  expense  —  in  this  case.     It  is 
life  and  death  to  me.     .     .     .     Oh,  Mr.  Prentice,  don't  fail 
me  now.     Make  the  deed  strong  —  make  it  so  binding  that 
he  can  never  slip  out  of  it." 

301 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  I  won't  fail  you,"  said  Mr.  Prentice  earnestly.  "  We'll 
make  your  deed  as  strong  —  as  effective  —  as  is  humanly 
possible  —  a  deed  that  the  Courts  will  be  far  more  inclined 
to  support  than  to  upset." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  as  if  now  satisfied.  "  That's  all  I 
ask  for  —  as  strong  as  is  humanly  possible." 


X 


XXVlll 

IT  was  a  bright  May  morning  and  the  sunshine  streamed 
into  Mr.  Prentice's  room  gaily  and  warmly,  lighting  up  the 
old  panelled  walls,  flickering  on  the  bunch  of  keys  that  hung 
from  the  lock  of  the  open  safe,  and  making  the  tin  boxes 
show  queer  reflections  of  the  windows,  the  tops  of  houses  on 
the  other  side  of  Hill  Street,  and  even  of  the  blue  sky  above 
the  chimney-pots. 

A  large  table  had  been  brought  in  for  the  occasion;  a 
clerk  had  furnished  it  with  newly-filled  ink-stands  and  nice 
clean  blotting  paper;  another  clerk  was  ready  to  receive  the 
visitors  as  they  came  upstairs.  Mr.  Prentice  moved  his 
armchair  to  the  head  of  the  table.  He  would  sit  here,  and 
preside  over  the  meeting.  He  glanced  at  the  clock. —  A 
quarter  to  twelve ! 

At  noon  Mr.  Archibald  Bence  or  his  representative  was  to 
complete  the  purchase  of  Marsden  &  Thompson's  by  handing 
over  cash;  and  at  the  same  time  the  domestic  affairs  of  Mrs. 
Marsden  were  to  be  wound  up  forever. 

Mrs.  Marsden  was  the  first  of  the  interested  parties  to  ar- 
rive on  the  scene.  She  looked  careworn  and  nervous;  and, 
as  she  shook  hands,  Mr.  Prentice  noticed  that  her  fingers 
trembled. 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  he  said  kindly,  "  there's  nothing  to 
worry  about.  You  sit  by  my  side  here,  and  take  things 
quietly." 

Mrs.  Marsden,  however,  preferred  to  sit  away  from  the 
table,  on  a  chair  between  the  windows,  with  her  back  to  the 
light. 

303 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Nothing  to  worry  about  now,"  repeated  Mr.  Prentice, 
confidently  and  cheerily.  "  It'll  soon  be  over." 

"  But  it  won't  be  over  without  some  unpleasantness." 

"  Why  ?  Mr.  Marsden  has  been  quite  pleasant  so  far  — • 
really  quite  easy  to  deal  with." 

"  But  he  won't  be  to-day  —  I  know  it."  And  she  showed 
great  anxiety.  "  You  say  he  has  made  all  arrangements  for 
his  voyage  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  tells  me  he  sails  on  Thursday.  And  he  goes 
to  London  to-night." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  truly  means  it." 

"  Of  course  he  means  it." 

"  I  suppose  he  does.  The  things  he  packed  at  our  house 
went  straight  to  Liverpool.  But  —  even  now  —  he  may 
change  his  mind." 

"How  can  he?     .     .     .     Hush!" 

There  was  a  heavy  footstep  in  the  passage.  The  clerk 
opened  the  door,  and  announced  Mr.  Marsden. 

"Am  I  late?" 

"  No,  you  are  in  excellent  time,"  said  Prentice;  and,  look- 
ing at  him,  he  endeavoured  not  to  manifest  the  thoughts 
aroused  by  his  appearance. 

It  seemed  that  Marsden,  bracing  himself  for  the  day,  was 
trying  to  maintain  a  sort  of  buccaneering  joviality.  Evi- 
dently, too,  he  had  made  some  attempts  to  render  himself 
presentable  in  general  company.  He  had  visited  the  barber, 
and  his  bloated  face  was  smooth  and  glistening  after  a  close 
shave;  a  neatly  cut  piece  of  plaster  covered  an  eruption  on 
the  back  of  his  neck;  he  wore  a  clean  collar,  and  the  cheap 
violet  satin  neck-tie  conveyed  the  idea  that  it  had  been  chosen 
by  feminine  taste.  Probably  his  travelling  companion  had 
assisted  in  brushing  and  cleaning  him,  and  sending  him  forth 
as  nice  as  possible. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  this  unusual  care,  he  looked  most  ruffianly 
304 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

as  he  lolled  in  a  chair  near  the  open  safe,  with  the  bright 
sunlight  full  upon  him.  His  eyes  were  slightly  bloodshot; 
and  the  gross,  overfed  frame  suggested  the  characteristics  of 
a  beast  of  prey  who  for  a  long  time  has  ceased  to  undergo 
the  invigorating  activities  of  the  chase  and  been  enabled 
without  effort  to  gorge  at  will.  Now  he  had  come  for  his 
last  greedy  and  unearned  meal. 

Mrs.  Marsden,  on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  lowered  her 
eyes,  folded  her  hands,  sat  silent  and  motionless. 

Mr.  Collins  of  Hyde  &  Collins,  followed  by  his  own 
clerk,  was  the  next  to  arrive.  He  came  bustling  into 
the  room,  and  immediately  seemed  to  take  possession 
of  it. 

"  Good  morning.  Good  morning.  Here  we  are.  Put 
my  bag  on  the  table.  .  .  .  Where  are  you  sitting, 
Prentice.  .  .  .  Over  there?  All  right.  Then  I'll  sit 
here ; "  and  he  took  the  chair  at  the  end  of  the  table,  op- 
posite to  Mr.  Prentice.  "  You  sit  there,  Fielding;  "  and  he 
waved  to  his  clerk.  "  Sit  down.  Don't  stand." 

Mr.  Prentice  disliked  Collins  rather  more  than  he  dis- 
liked Hyde.  To  his  mind,  Collins  was  everything  that  a 
solicitor  should  not  be  —  impudent,  unscrupulous,  vulgar ;  a 
discredit  to  the  profession.  His  ragged  beard,  his  snout  of 
a  nose,  his  little  ferret-eyes,  shifting  so  rapidly  behind  steel- 
rimmed  spectacles,  were  all  obnoxious;  but  what  made  Mr. 
Prentice  really  angry  was  his  irrepressible  familiarity,  with 
the  odious  facetious  manner  that  accompanied  it.  He  said 
Prentice  instead  of  Mister  Prentice;  and,  refusing  to  recog- 
nize snubs,  always  pretended  that  they  were  on  the  best  of 
terms  with  each  other. 

"  Well,"  asked  Marsden,  "  why  don't  we  begin?  " 

"  No  hurry,  is  there  ?  "  said  Collins.  He  was  busy  with 
his  ugly  black  bag,  getting  out  the  important  document,  and 
unfolding  some  memorandum  papers. 

305 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Oh,  7'm  in  no  particular  hurry,"  said  Marsden.  "  But 
twelve  o'clock  was  the  hour  named." 

"  Is  it  twelve.  .  .  .  Can  you  hear  Holy  Trinity  clock 
from  here,  Prentice  ?  We  hear  it  plainly  at  our  place." 

Then  dapper,  smiling  Mr.  Archibald  Bence  was  an- 
nounced. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Collins  patron isingly.  "  Here  we  are, 
all  assembled.  Be  seated.  Fielding,  put  a  chair  for  Mr. 
Bence." 

Mr.  Archibald  looked  splendid  in  the  sunlight.  He 
shone  all  over,  from  his  bald  head  to  his  patent  leather  boots. 
His  black  coat  was  beautifully  braided,  elegantly  padded  on 
the  shoulders,  tightly  pulled  in  at  the  waist;  his  buff  waist- 
coat exactly  matched  his  wash-leather  gloves;  and  with  him 
there  entered  the  room  a  pleasing  fragrance  shed  by  the  moss 
roses  in  his  button-hole.  He  bowed  gallantly  to  the  only 
lady  present,  had  an  affable  word  for  Prentice  and  Collins, 
and  nodded  rather  contemptuously  to  Marsden. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  blandly,  "  it  is  the  sort  of  day  on 
which  one  is  glad  to  be  alive ; "  and  he  turned  about,  with  a 
dandified  air,  to  find  a  vacant  spot  for  his  brand-new  topper. 

"Take  Mr.  Bence's  hat,"  said  Collins;  and  his  clerk  did 
as  he  was  bid. 

Bence,  declining  a  chair,  went  and  leaned  against  the  wall 
near  Mrs.  Marsden,  and  twirled  his  moustache. 

"  What  are  we  waiting  for?  "  asked  Marsden. 

"  Only  for  one  small  trifle,"  said  Mr.  Collins  facetiously. 
"  But  I  don't  suppose  you'd  dispense  with  it.  Not  quite  a 
matter  of  form." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  The  money  —  the  purchase  money,  my  dear  sir." 

"  What?     Haven't  you  got  it  with  you?  " 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  no,"  said  Mr.  Collins.  "  But  it's  coming 
—  oh,  yes,  it's  coming." 

306 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  I  understand  that  a  clerk  is  bringing  it  from  the  bank," 
said  Mr.  Prentice.  He  found  the  facetious  manner  of  Mr. 
Collins  utterly  insufferable. 

Marsden  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  crossed  his  legs. 
Archibald  Bence  was  looking  at  him ;  Collins  looked  at  him ; 
old  Prentice  looked  at  him ;  and  all  at  once  he  seemed  to  feel 
the  necessity  of  asserting  himself. 

"  I  never  understood  the  use  of  appointments  unless  they 
are  punctually  attended.  It's  waste  of  time  asking  people 
for  twelve,  if  you  don't  intend  to  get  to  work  till  half  an 
hour  later." 

Bence  moved  to  the  window,  and  looked  out. 

"  A  thousand  apologies  for  keeping  you  waiting,  Mr. 
Marsden."  He  spoke  over  his  shoulder.  "  Ah,  here  the 
man  comes ; "  and  he  pulled  out  his  grand  gold  watch. 
"  Then  I've  really  only  wasted  three  minutes  of  your  valu- 
able time." 

"  All  right,"  said  Marsden  sulkily. 

The  bank  clerk  came  in,  and  bowed  to  the  company  as 
he  went  to  Mr.  Collins's  side  at  the  table.  Then  he  opened 
his  wallet  and  brought  out  the  white  sheaves  of  bank- 
notes. 

"Will  you  go  through  them,  sir?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Collins.  "  Will  you  kindly  check  them 
with  me,  Prentice  ?  " 

"  I'll  count  them  after  you,"  said  Mr.  Prentice.  It  did 
not  suit  his  dignity  to  leave  his  chair  and  go  round  the  table 
to  stand  at  Collins's  elbow. 

Mr.  Collins  found  the  total  of  the  notes  correct,  pushed 
them  across  to  Prentice,  and  signed  the  bank  receipt. 

"  Then  you  won't  want  me  any  more,"  said  the  bank 
clerk. 

"  Wait,"  said  Collins  pompously,  as  if  the  bank,  as  well 
as  Mr.  Prentice's  room,  belonged  to  him.  "  Stand  over 

307 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

there  —  or  sit  down,  if  you  please.     My  clerk  will  go  back 
with  you." 

Marsden  had  risen  and  approached  the  table.  It  was  as 
if  the  bank-notes  had  irresistibly  drawn  him.  Perhaps, 
though  in  his  career  he  had  dissipated  so  many  notes  singly 
or  by  small  batches,  he  had  never  yet  seen  such  a  good  show 
of  them,  all  together,  at  one  time.  And  such  noble  de- 
nominations ! 

"  Twice  three  thousand,"  said  Prentice.  "  Quite  right." 
While  counting,  he  had  divided  the  notes  into  two  piles; 
and  now  he  slid  them  towards  the  middle  of  the  table,  and 
put  an  ink-stand  on  top  to  prevent  their  blowing  away. 

Marsden  stood  over  them.  He  could  not  leave  the  table 
now. 

"  Then  here  we  are.  All  in  order,"  said  Collins,  as  he 
spread  out  his  parchment  and  glanced  at  Mrs.  Marsden. 
"  I  suppose,  strictly  speaking,  it  should  be  ladies  first.  But 
as  the  pen  is  close  to  your  hand,  Mr.  Marsden  —  will  you, 
sir,  open  the  ball  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  the  conveyance  for  the  sale,  eh  ?  Where  do 
I  sign?" 

"  There  —  against  the  seal  —  over  the  pencil  marks. 
.  .  .  And  I'll  witness  your  signature." 

Then  Mr.  Marsden  duly  signed  his  name,  and  repeated 
the  formula  as  prompted  by  Collins. 

"  I  deliver  it  as  my  act  and  deed.     .     .     .     Now,  Jane !  " 

Mrs.  Marsden  had  not  stirred  from  her  seat. 

"  Don't  put  down  your  pen,  Richard.  There's  the  other 
deed  to  sign.  Mr.  Prentice  is  ready  for  you." 

"  All  right  —  but  you  come  and  sign  the  conveyance ;  " 
and  he  moved  to  Mr.  Prentice's  end  of  the  table.  "  I  ought 
to  read  this  —  but  I  suppose  I  may  take  it  as  read." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  think  so,"  said  Mr.  Prentice. 

"  It's  exactly  the  same  as  the  draft  that  I  passed  ?  " 
308 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Yes,  of  course." 

"  I  may  trust  you  not  to  have  dabbed  in  something  artful 
that  I'd  never  heard  of?  " 

"  You  had  better  read  it,"  said  Prentice  curtly,  "  if  you 
cant  trust  me." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right;"  and  Marsden  laughed.  "Now 
then  —  where  do  you  want  my  autograph  ?  " 

Still  chuckling,  he  affixed  his  signature;  and,  he  smiled 
good-humouredly  while  the  witness  filled  the  attestation 
space. 

Mrs.  Marsden  had  come  to  the  table,  and  was  pulling  off 
a  rusty  black  glove. 

"  There  you  are,"  said  her  husband.  "  The  conveyance 
first,  Jane." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  looking  at  him  resolutely. 
"  I'll  sign  this  deed  first.  It's  the  one  I'm  most  interested 
in ;  "  and  she  turned  to  Mr.  Prentice.  "  But  I  must  try  the 
pen.  Kindly  kt  me  have  a  bit  of  paper." 

Mr.  Prentice  fetched  a  half  sheet  of  note-paper  from  his 
desk,  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"  Thank  you."  Stooping  over  the  table,  she  tested  the 
pen  by  scribbling  a  few  words.  Then  she  executed  the  deed ; 
and,  while  Mr.  Fielding  was  being  good  enough  to  write  his 
name  and  address  as  witness,  she  gave  the  half-leaf  of  paper 
to  Mr.  Prentice. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Marsden.  "  Look  sharp.  Don't  be  all 
night  about  it."  He  had  gone  to  the  other  end  of  the  table, 
and  he  waited  anxiously  to  see  the  conveyance  completed. 

Mr.  Prentice  was  reading  Mrs.  Marsden's  scribbled  words. 
He  looked  at  her,  and  she  pointed  with  her  pen.  She  had 
written :  "  Lock  the  deed  in  your  safe,  and  put  the  keys  in 
your  pocket." 

"  Now  I  am  ready,  Richard." 

But  still  she  did  not  sign.  She  was  watching  Mr.  Pren- 
309 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

tice.     The  door  of  the  safe  shut  with  a  faint,  dull  clank, 
and  Mr.  Prentice  locked  the  door  and  took  out  the  keys. 

Then  Mrs.  Marsden  signed  the  conveyance,  and  Fielding 
obligingly  witnessed  her  signature. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said ;  and,  returning  to  her  chair  be- 
tween the  windows,  she  sat  down  again. 

"  That's  done,"  said  Collins ;  and  he  called  to  the  bank 
clerk,  who  had  been  patiently  waiting  in  a  corner  of  the 
room.  "  Mr.  Fielding  will  go  back  with  you.  This  docu- 
ment is  to  be  put  away  with  Mr.  Bence's  papers.  My  com- 
pliments to  the  manager.  He  knows  all  about  it." 

"  But,"  said  Marsden,  "  doesn't  Mr.  Bence  sign  it?  " 

"  It  isn't  necessary,"  said  Collins. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  And  Marsden  looked  at  Bence  sus- 
piciously. 

"  He  can  sign  it  at  his  convenience,"  said  Collins,  "  if  he 
ever  wishes  to  do  so.  .  .  .  Run  along,  young  fellows. 
My  compliments  to  the  manager;  "  and  he  addressed  Mars- 
den with  extreme  facetiousness.  "  We  pay  on  this  —  so  you 
can  be  quite  sure  we  are  not  deceiving  you.  The  money 
talks.  You  can  take  it  whenever  you  please.  .  .  .  Ah! 
I  see  —  you're  not  slow  about  that." 

And  in  fact,  without  waiting  for  Mr.  Collins  to  conclude 
his  invitation,  Marsden  had  pushed  aside  the  ink-stand  and 
picked  up  the  notes.  One  bundle  he  unceremoniously  thrust 
into  the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat;  and  now  with  a  licked 
finger  he  was  separating  the  edges  of  the  other  bundle. 

"  Stop,"  said  Mr.  Prentice.  "  What  are  you  doing? 
Allow  me,  please;  "  and  he  held  out  his  hand.  "  I  will  at- 
tend to  this." 

Marsden,  without  surrendering  the  notes,  explained  mat- 
ters in  a  confidential  whisper. 

"  Fifteen  hundred  goes  to  her,  and  the  rest  to  me." 

"  Indeed  it  doesn't,"  said  Prentice  warmly. 
310 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Marsden.  "  It  was  arranged  be- 
tween her  and  me." 

"  But  I  know  nothing  of  any  such  arrangement.  I  can't 
permit  it  for  a  moment." 

"  You  can't  permit  it!"  said  Marsden  indignantly. 
"  What  the  dickens  has  it  got  to  do  with  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Collins,  with  an  assumption  of  tactful  delicacy,  had 
pushed  back  his  chair.  "  Excuse  me.  This  is  a  private 
conversation.  I  hasten  to  withdraw."  And  he  went  across 
to  Archibald  Bence  and  Mrs.  Marsden,  and  talked  to  them 
in  a  rapid  undertone. 

Mr.  Prentice  went  on  protesting;  and  Marsden,  cutting 
him  short,  called  loudly  to  his  wife. 

"  Jane,  tell  him  that  it  is  all  right." 

"  Yes,"  she  said.     "  Quite  all  right,  Mr.  Prentice." 

"  Oh,  you  mean  that  you  are  giving  him  a  present  of  fif- 
teen hundred  pounds?  " 

"  It's  not  a  present,"  said  Marsden. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  "  it  was  a  bargain." 

"  Between  ourselves,  and  concerning  nobody  else ;  "  and 
Marsden  glared  at  Mr.  Prentice. 

Nevertheless  Mr.  Prentice  still  expostulated.  "  I  think 
it  is  highly  improper.  I  would  never  have  consented  to  — " 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Collins,  "  if  I  intrude  —  but  it  has 
been  impossible  not  to  catch  the  gist  of  your  discussion. 
Really  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  too  late  for  you,  Prentice,  to 
tender  advice  on  the  point  —  and  that  the  lady's  wish  must 
decide  the  matter.  If  Mrs.  Marsden  announces  that  she 
wishes  — " 

"  Just  so,  Mr.  Collins ; "  and  Marsden  looked  at  him 
gratefully. 

"  Exactly,"  said  Bence  soothingly.  "  That's  how  it 
strikes  me,  too." 

Marsden   looked    at    Bence   with   surprise   and   pleasure. 
311 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

They  all  seemed  to  be  on  his  side.  He  appealed  to  his  wife 
with  a  rather  boisterous  joviality. 

"  Jane,  speak  up  for  me.     Tell  them  that  you  did  wish  it," 

"  Yes,  I  did  wish  it." 

"  Then  there  is  no  more  to  be  said,"  continued  Bence, 
smoothly  and  glibly.  "  On  an  occasion  like  this,  one  natu- 
rally wishes  to  avoid  any  acrimonious  talk.  Especially  in  a 
peculiar  case  like  the  present  —  when  a  gentleman  and  a 
lady  are  parting, —  there's  no  need  for  them  to  part  other 
than  as  good  friends.  That,  madam,  I  feel  certain  is  also 
your  wish." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  do  greatly 
wish  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Jane.  I'm  sure  I  do.  But  I  don't  know 
why  we  should  make  speeches  about  it,  or  get  Mr.  Bence  to 
expound  our  sentiments." 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Bence,  "  if  I  trespass.  You  are  leav- 
ing us,  Mr.  Marsden  —  and  I  share  Mrs.  Marsden's  desire 
that  you  should  not  leave  us  with  any  feeling  of  ill-will." 

"  Precisely,"  said  Collins,  picking  up  the  word,  almost  as 
if  taking  his  cue  in  a  rehearsed  dialogue.  "  That  is  what 
everyone  must  feel."  He  had  reseated  himself  at  the  table; 
and  he  looked  round  with  a  comprehensive  smile,  as  if  as- 
suming sole  charge  of  everything  and  everybody.  "  Mr. 
Bence  has  touched  the  point  very  gracefully.  .  .  .  Pray 
be  seated,  Mr.  Marsden." 

"What,  aren't  we  done?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Collins  with  consequential 
urbanity.  "  Our  business  is  done.  But  spare  us  one  minute 
for  friendly  chat.  Do  sit  down.  .  .  .  Thank  you. 
As  I  was  about  to  say,  following  the  line  of  our  friend 
Bence:  In  the  hour  of  separation,  when  two  parties  by 
mutual  agreement  are  saying  good-bye,  it  is  always  well  that 
they  should  thoroughly  understand  the  future  situation." 

312 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"What's  all  this  gas  about?  "  said  Marsden.  "Are  you 
trying  to  pull  my  leg?  What  are  you  getting  at?  " 

"  Mr.  Marsden,  you  are  retiring  from  trade,  you  are  go- 
ing to  the  other  side  of  the  world  —  I  wish  you  health  and 
prosperity." 

"  And  I,  too,"  said  Bence.  "  The  best  of  luck,  Mr.  Mars- 
den." 

Marsden  got  up  again.  "  Thank  you  for  nothing,  Mr. 
Archibald  Bence.  You're  both  trying  to  be  funny,  I  suppose. 
Only  I  fail  to  see  the  joke.  .  .  .  Good  morning;  "  and 
he  moved  towards  the  door.  "  Jane,  good-bye." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Archibald,  "  we've  wished  you  luck. 
Don't  go  without  wishing  us  luck." 

"  Yes,"  said  Collins,  "  don't  go  without  wishing  your 
wife  luck." 

"  Then  here's  luck,  Jane ;  "  and  Marsden  laughed. 

"And  luck  to  Bence's,"  said  Collins  blandly.  "Wish 
luck  to  Bence's." 

"  No,  I'll  be  damned  if  I  do." 

"  But  that,"  said  Collins,  with  a  grin,  "  invalidates  your 
other  good  wish.  You  can't  wish  luck  to  your  wife  without 
wishing  luck  to  Bence's ;  "  and  he  bowed  to  Mrs.  Marsden. 
"  I  think  you  should  now  explain.  He  will  take  it  better 
from  you." 

"Richard,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  quietly  and  firmly,  "I 
am  Bence's." 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  silence.  Then  Marsden 
came  slowly  to  the  table,  leaned  both  hands  on  it,  and  stared 
across  at  his  wife. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Jane  ?  Is  this  another 
joke?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mr.  Archibald.  "  It  is  strictly  accurate. 
Bence's,  with  all  that's  in  it  —  including  your  humble  serv- 
ant —  practically  belongs  to  this  lady." 

313 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  And  we  all  felt,"  said  Collins,  "  that  you  ought  to  know 
the  facts  before  you  started  on  your  journey.  We  didn't 
want  you  coming  back  again  to  inquire  —  don't  you  know." 

Marsden  seemed  not  to  hear.  He  stared  at  his  wife,  with 
his  blood-shot  eyes  widely  distended;  and  he  spoke  only  to 
her. 

"  Jane,  answer  me.     Is  it  true?  " 

"  Yes,  Richard." 


"You  asked  me  what  I  did  with  my  money  —  the  re- 
mainder of  my  own  money.  You  were  always  asking  me. 
Well,  I  gave  it  to  Mr.  Bence." 

"  How  much  was  it?  " 

"Not  very  much,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  deprecatingly  ; 
"  but  he  has  done  very  well  with  it." 

"  But  that  was  treachery  —  a  damnable  betrayal." 

"  Richard,  don't  use  strong  words.  It  was  no  betrayal. 
It  was  common  sense.  Remember,  desperate  diseases  need 
desperate  remedies." 

"You  went  over  to  my  enemy.  You  helped  him  to  de- 
stroy our  business." 

"  I  didn't,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden  earnestly.  "  I  gave  him 
my  money;  but  I  gave  you  my  work.  I  never  ceased  fight- 
ing him.  Isn't  that  true,  Mr.  Bence  ?  " 

"  Strictly  accurate,"  said  Bence.  "  She  fought  gamely  to 
the  bitter  end." 

"  You  shut  your  head,"  said  Marsden  fiercely.  "  Don't 
interfere  between  me  and  my  wife.  I  must  have  this  out 
with  her  first.  I'll  talk  to  you  directly." 

"  I'll  be  ready  for  you,"  said  Bence.  "  But  till  then, 
please  moderate  your  language  ;  "  and  he  moved  to  a  window, 
and  looked  down  into  the  street. 

"So  that's  what  you  did,  Jane,  eh?  Sneaked  off  behind 
my  back,  and  sold  yourself  to  the  enemy  !  " 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  I  continued  to  serve  you  faithfully.  Success  or  failure 
lay  in  your  hands,  not  mine.  I  never  ceased  working  for 
the  firm." 

"  Oh,  that's  easy  to  say,  isn't  it?" 

"  It's  the  truth." 

"  It's  a  lie  —  and  you  know  it." 

"Will  you  moderate  your  language?"  said  Bence. 
"  Gentlemen,  I  beg  your  support.  This  lady  must  be  pro- 
tected from  insult." 

But  the  attention  of  Marsden  and  his  wife  was  so  entirely 
concentrated  on  each  other  that  neither  of  them  seemed  to 
hear  the  interruption. 

"  Richard,  don't  go  on  like  this  —  don't  force  me  to  say 
unkind  things  which  I  shall  regret  later." 

"  I  knew  there  was  some  infernal  mystery  at  the  bottom 
of  our  troubles.  But,  by  Jove,  I  never  guessed  that  it  was 
you  who'd  played  false." 

"  Richard,  don't  abuse  me." 

"Abuse  you?  I  shan't  waste  breath  on  abusing  you. 
You  have  cheated  me  —  or  you've  tried  to  cheat  me.  For 
I'm  not  going  to  let  you;"  and  he  turned  towards  the 
others.  "  Take  notice,  all  of  you,  that  I  shan't  sub- 
mit to  this.  Prentice,  do  you  understand?  You  were 
always  hostile  to  me.  I  suppose  you  helped  to  hatch  this 
plot." 

Mr.  Prentice  was  looking  so  absolutely  bewildered  that 
his  face  should  have  been  sufficient  proof  of  his  innocence. 

"  No,"  he  said  feebly.  "  All  this  has  come  upon  me  as  a 
complete  surprise." 

"  Then  you,  Mr.  Collins  —  understand  it's  all  mighty 
fine,  but  it  won't  wash." 

"Won't  it?"  said  Collins. 

"  No,  I  don't  allow  myself  to  be  cheated  —  even  by  my 
wife." 

21  315 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Richard,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  "  don't  call  me  a  cheat 
again." 

"You  there — Bence  —  take  notice.  I'll  bring  you  to 
account  for  this.  I'm  not  the  sort  to  be  tricked  and  fooled 
by  any  little  swine  that  gets  plotting  with  my  wife.  No, 
not  if  I  know  it.  Cheating  people  is  very  clever, 
but—" 

Mrs.  Marsden  sprang  up  from  her  chair  by  the  wall. 

"  How  dare  you  call  me  a  cheat?  " 

Her  eyes  were  blazing.  She  had  clenched  her  fists;  and, 
trembling  with  passion,  she  came  to  the  table  and  faced  her 
husband. 

"  What  have  you  ever  given  me  in  exchange  for  all  I 
gave  you  —  except  shame  and  sorrow  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  listen  to  your  yelling  and  — " 

"  I  gave  you  my  love,  and  you  trampled  on  it  —  I  gave 
you  my  home,  and  you  polluted  it  —  I  gave  you  the  work  of 
my  life,  and  you  pulled  it  to  pieces  before  my  eyes.  Yet 
still  I  was  true  and  loyal  to  you.  I  could  have  divorced  you, 
and  I  wouldn't  do  it.  I  promised  you  that  I'd  hold  to  you 
till  you  yourself  consented  to  set  me  free;  and  I  kept  my 
promise.  You  were  a  liar  —  but  I  respected  your  words. 
You  were  a  thief  —  but  I  dealt  with  you  as  if  you  had  been 
an  honest  man.  I  fed  and  clothed  you  when  you  were  well, 
I  nursed  you  when  you  were  sick  —  I  hid  your  crimes,  I 
sheltered  you  from  their  consequences.  At  this  minute  I 
am  keeping  you  out  of  the  prison  that  is  your  only  proper 
place.  .  .  .  And  yet  —  great  God  —  he  has  the  audacity 
to  say  that  I  am  cheating  him !  " 

And  then  Mrs.  Marsden,  shaking  in  excitement  and  anger, 
went  back  to  her  chair  and  sat  down. 

"  You  asked  for  that,"  said  Collins,  with  renewed  face- 
tiousness,  "  and  you  got  it." 

Bence  was  looking  out  of  the  window;  and  he  whistled 

316 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

and  gently  clapped  his  hands,  as  if  applauding  the  passionate 
force  of  Mrs.  Marsden's  unexpected  tirade. 

"  I  don't  know  what  she  means,"  said  Marsden  hoarsely. 
"  And  I  dare  say  she  doesn't  know,  herself."  He  had  been 
staggered  by  his  wife's  attack;  and  at  her  last  words  he  re- 
coiled from  the  table,  as  if  suddenly  daunted,  almost  cowed. 
Now  he  was  pulling  himself  together  again.  "  Who  cares 
what  a  woman  says  ?  "  And  he  cleared  his  throat,  and  spoke 
loudly  and  defiantly.  "  I  don't,  for  one." 

"  Richard,"  murmured  Mrs.  Marsden,  in  a  still  tremu- 
lous voice.  "  I'm  sorry  I  said  it." 

"All  right.  That's  enough.  .  .  .  But  now,  if  you 
please,  we  men  will  talk ;  "  and  he  looked  from  one  to  an- 
other. The  veins  showed  redly  on  his  forehead ;  his  glisten- 
ing jaw  was  protruded;  and  he  he  squared  his  huge  shoulders 
pugnaciously.  "  I  tell  you,  once  for  all,  I'm  not  going  to 
stand  any  damned  rot.  As  to  the  sale  —  Mr.  Clever  Bence, 
—  I  repudiate  it  utterly.  It  was  obtained  under  false  pre- 
tences, and  I'll  have  it  set  aside.  As  to  the  separation  — 
I'm  speaking  to  you,  Prentice, —  that  bargain  falls  through 
with  the  other.  .  .  .  And  to  show  you  what  I  think  of 
ft  —  I  am  now  going  to  tear  up  the  deed." 

"  Oh  no,  you're  not,"  said  Collins. 

"I  warn  you  all,"  said  Marsden  furiously:  "if  anyone 
touches  me,  he'll  be  sorry  for  it.  Now,  Prentice,  fetch  out 
your  deed  again.  You  shoved  it  away  in  that  safe,  didn't 
you?  Well,  out  with  it."  And  he  moved  to  the  side  of 
Mr.  Prentice,  and  stood  over  him  threateningly.  "  Out 
with  it  —  d'you  hear  ?  " 

Bence  and  Collins  had  both  begun  to  clap  their  hands 
loudly.  And  with  this  noisy  applause  other  sounds  were 
mingling.  Mr.  Prentice,  as  he  rose  to  confront  Marsden, 
heard  quick  footsteps  in  the  passage.  The  door  was  abruptly 
opened,  and  two  policemen  came  into  the  room. 

317 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  This  way,  officers,"  said  Collins  pompously.  "  You 
are  just  in  time  to  prevent  a  breach  of  the  peace.  There's 
your  man  —  keep  your  eyes  on  him." 

Marsden,  turning  hurriedly,  saw  the  two  uniforms  and 
helmets  solemnly  advance,  and  showed  a  craven  dissatisfac~ 
tion  at  the  sight. 

"  What  are  you  up  to  now  ?  "  he  asked  glumly. 

But  Collins,  ignoring  the  question,  continued  to  talk 
pompously  to  the  new  arrivals. 

"  As  I  told  your  superintendent,  he  is  a  dangerous  char- 
acter. He  has  been  threatening  us  with  assault  and  battery 
—  but  we  do  not  wish  to  give  him  in  charge,  if  we  can  help 
it.  Your  presence  will  probably  be  sufficient  to  restrain 
him." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

"  He  is  the  same  man  who  made  the  disturbance  at  the 
Red  Cow  —  and  I  think  he  has  been  charged  once  or  twice 
as  a  drunk  and  disorderly." 

"You  needn't  introduce  him  so  carefully,"  said  Bence, 
with  a  snigger.  "  Mr.  Marsden  is  already  well  known  to 
the  police." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Bence,"  said  one  of  the  policemen,  "  we 
know  the  gent." 

"  Very  well,"  continued  Collins,  with  the  air  of  a  magis- 
trate presiding  over  a  crowded  court.  "  He  is  leaving  the 
town  to-night  —  forever, —  and  I  shall  ask  for  a  constable  to 
see  him  off.  From  the  mayor  down  to  the  humblest  citizen,, 
Mallingbridge  is  tired  of  him  —  so  he  is  going  to  the  western 
states  of  America.  He  will  be  more  at  home  among  the: 
desperados  of  some  mining  camp  than  he  can  be  in  a  peaceful 
hum-drum  town  like  this."  And  Mr.  Collins  turned  to- 
Marsden,  as  though  haranguing  the  prisoner.  "  Now,  sir,, 
will  you  behave  yourself,  and  let  us  finish  our  conversation^ 
quietly  and  decently?" 

318 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Oh,  you  can  finish  your  chin-music  in  any  tune  you 
like."  Marsden  growled  this  out;  but  the  voice  was  heavy 
and  dejected,  altogether  lacking  in  animation.  Very  ob- 
viously the  arrival  of  the  police  had  crushed  his  spirit. 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Collins.  "  Then  I  think,  officers,  that 
will  do.  You  may  safely  leave  us  for  the  moment.  But 
please  wait  outside  the  door,  to  protect  us  if  necessary." 

"Yes,"  said  Bence.  "we'll  give  you  the  same  signal,  if 
you're  wanted  again." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Bence." 

And  the  policemen  left  the  room.  To  their  eyes  the 
famous  Mr.  Bence  was  the  natural  chieftain  of  any  as- 
semblage, no  matter  how  pompously  anybody  else  talked. 
Here,  they  were  at  his  service,  detailed  for  Bence's  just  as 
much  as  if  it  had  been  a  sale  day  and  they  and  their  mates 
were  regulating  the  traffic  in  front  of  the  shop. 

"  Now,"  said  Collins,  with  a  change  of  manner,  and 
speaking  in  a  conciliatory  if  argumentative  tone,  "  we  can 
pick  up  our  little  debate.  Mr.  Marsden,  come  now,  after 
all,  what  is  this  fuss  about?" 

Marsden  laughed ;  but  his  laughter  was  dull  and  spiritless. 

"  Go  on  —  jabber,  jabber." 

"  Really  now.  What  is  the  grievance  ?  You  have  sold 
your  business  and  been  paid  for  it.  Of  your  own  free  will, 
you  have  parted  with  your  interests.  You  have  renounced 
all  claims  upon  your  wife." 

"  Yes  —  but  I've  been  tricked  into  doing  it." 

"Where's  the  trick?" 

"  She  made  me  think  we  were  done." 

*"  So  you  were.  You  came  to  her  and  told  her  so.  You 
prevailed  on  her  to  agree  to  the  sale.  It  wasn't  her  proposi- 
tion, but  yours." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  made  it  if  I  had  known." 

"You  thought  you  had  got  all  you  could  out  of  her — • 
319 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

and  that  was  the  fact.  You  thought  she  was  poor;  and  you 
find  that  she  has  made  a  good  investment  —  with  her  own 
private  funds,  mark  you, —  and  she  is  therefore  not  poor, 
but  rather  the  reverse.  Where's  your  quarrel  with  that  ?  " 

"  I  am  entitled  to  my  share  in  her  investment." 

"  Oh,  bosh!     That's  simply  absurd." 

Marsden  was  standing  up,  resting  his  red  hands  on  the 
back  of  a  chair.  Now  he  moved  the  chair  to  Mr.  Prentice's 
end  of  the  table,  sat  down,  and  spoke  in  an  eager  whisper. 

"  Prentice,  hostile  or  not,  you  are  honest.  I  call  on  you 
to  see  fair  play.  She  can't  do  this,  can  she?  " 

"  She  has  done  it,"  said  Prentice  feebly. 

"  But  tell  her  it  isn't  fair.  She  knows  you're  straight, 
and  above  board.  It's  all  mighty  fine  to  bowl  me  out  — 
and  perhaps  you  don't  think  I  deserve  any  pity.  But  still, 
speak  for  me.  She  can't  round  on  me  like  this  —  she  can't 
say  '  Your  firm  is  killed,  and  I've  transferred  myself  across 
the  road  to  the  firm  that  killed  it.'  Surely  the  law  wouldn't 
allow  her  to  spoof  me  like  that?  " 

But  sharp-eared  Mr.  Collins  had  heard  the  whisper. 

"  Prentice,  don't  answer  him.  Mr.  Marsden,  I'll  answer 
that  question.  I  answer  for  the  law.  I  am  your  wife's 
legal  adviser  in  all  this.  Please  address  me,  sir." 

Marsden  turned  with  a  final  burst  of  fierce  rage; 

"  Then  I  say,  curse  you,  I'll  have  the  law  on  it." 

"  Now  look  here,  Marsden,"  and  Mr.  Collins's  voice 
changed  once  more  —  to  an  uncompromisingly  ugly  tone. 
"If  you  want  the  law,  we'll  give  you  your  bellyful  of  the 
law." 

"A  good  deal  more  than  you'll  like,"  said  Bence,  failing 
to  ask  for  moderation  of  language. 

"  Your  wife,"  Collins  went  on,  "  dropped  a  plain  hint  just 
now;  and  I  was  very  pleased  to  hear  it,  because  I  thought 
you'd  understand.  But  I  see  I  must  amplify  it  for  you. 

320 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Mrs.  Marsden  has  been  good  enough  to  entrust  to  my  care 
all  her  private  papers  —  that  is,  papers  she  has  kept  private 
to  oblige  you." 

"I  —  I  don't  in  the  least  follow  —  what  you're  driving 
at." 

"  Oh,  you  know  what  I'm  talking  about.  Specimens  of 
your  handwriting,  and  so  on  —  papers  that  the  law  would 
call  incriminating  documents, —  papers  that  the  law  would 
call  conclusive  evidence, —  papers  that  the  law  would  call 
forgeries." 

"  Prentice!     Don't  believe  him." 

"  Never  mind  Mr.  Prentice.  Attend  to  me.  .  .  . 
Ah-ha, —  you're  beginning  to  look  rather  foolish.  .  .  . 
Now,  how  much  law  do  you  want?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Bence,  "  if  he  has  time  to  get  safely  out 
of  the  country,  that's  all  the  law  he  ought  to  ask  for." 

Marsden  was  cowed  and  beaten.  He  sat  heavily  and 
limply  on  his  chair,  sprawling  one  red  hand  across  the  table, 
and  nervously  fingering  his  lips  with  the  other  hand. 

"  Well,"  said  Collins  mockingly,  "  what  are  you  going  to 
do  —  keep  your  bargain,  or  go  to  law  with  us  ?  " 

Marsden  was  thoroughly  cowed  and  beaten.  He  cleared 
his  throat  several  times,  and  even  then  spoke  huskily. 

"  I  must  say  a  word  or  two  to  my  wife ;  "  and  he  rose 
from  'his  chair  slowly.  ..."  Of  course,  when  a  man's 
down,  everyone  can  jump  on  him." 

And  he  went  over  to  Mrs.  Marsden,  stooped,  and 
whispered. 

Collins  tapped  his  nose  jocosely,  and  smiled  at  Mr.  Pren- 
tice —  seeming  to  say  without  words,  "  What  do  you  think 
of  that,  old  boy?  That's  the  way  Hyde  &  Collins  tackle  this 
sort  of  troublesome  customer." 

Little  Bence,  resuming  his  dandified  air  and  ostentatiously 
leaving  Mrs.  Marsden  and  her  husband  to  whisper  together, 

321 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

picked  up  his  glossy  hat,  and  dusted  it  with  a  neatly  folded 
silk  handkerchief. 

"  Jane,"  said  Marsden  pleadingly,  almost  whimperingly, 
"you  come  out  on  top  —  and  I  mustn't  bear  malice.  But 
you  have  been  hard  —  cruelly  hard." 

"  Dick,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden,  in  a  shaky  whisper,  "  don't 
reproach  me." 

"  But  don't  you  think  you  have  been  a  little  hard." 

"  No.  Or  it  is  you  who  have  made  me  hard.  I  wasn't 
hard  —  once.  And  remember  this,  Dick.  Even  at  the  end, 
I  tried  to  get  one  word  of  tenderness  from  you  —  to  make 
you  say  you  cared  just  a  little  for  what  happened  to  me. 
But  no  — " 

"  I  did  care." 

"  No.  You  hadn't  one  kind  word  —  or  one  kind  thought. 
You  and  your  —  your  companion  were  going  to  new  scenes, 
new  hopes;  and  I  might  be  left  to  starve." 

"  Jane,  I  swear  I  thought  you  were  all  right.  I  said  so, 
again  and  again.  And  now,  you're  rich  —  you're  really 
rolling  in  money ;  and  it  is  I  who  may  starve.  Jane  —  for 
auld  lang  syne  —  do  a  bit  more  for  me." 

"  No; "  and  she  shook  her  head  resolutely. 

"Jane!  Be  like  yourself.  .  .  .  I'm  not  grasping  or 
avaricious.  But  at  least  I  ought  to  get  as  much  as  the  busi- 
ness fetched.  Let  me  have  that  extra  fifteen  hundred." 

"  Well  -—  perhaps.     Ill  think  about  it." 

"  Do  it  now  —  hand  over  now,  or  they'll  only  persuade 
you  not  to." 

"No  —  but  I'll  give  it  you  later.  I  promise.  I'll  send 
it  to  your  address  in  California  —  as  soon  as  I  am  sure  that 
you  have  really  arrived  there." 

"All  right.  Thanks.  Jane — I'll  say  it  once  again.  ;I 
wish  you  luck.  You're  a  good  plucked  'un  —  J  always  knew 
that" 

322 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Then  the  meeting  broke  up. 

Marsden  was  the  first  to  go.  His  wife  watched  him  as 
he  went  slouching  down  the  street.  When  he  disappeared 
she  did  not  immediately  turn  from  the  window.  She  had 
furtively  produced  her  pocket  handkerchief,  and  the  gentle- 
men heard  her  blow  her  nose  loudly  and  strenuously ;  but  no 
one  saw  her  wipe  the  tears  from  her  eyes. 

Mr.  Collins,  on  the  threshold  of  the  room,  was  dismissing 
the  policemen  with  pompous  thanks,  and  promising  to  drop 
in  upon  their  superintendent  shortly. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  looking  round ;  "  shall  we  let  them 
escort  Mrs.  Marsden  home?" 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Archibald  gallantly.  "That  shall  be 
my  honour  and  pleasure.  And  there's  no  danger  of  his 
molesting  her  now." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Collins.  "  We've  fairly 
knocked  the  bounce  out  of  him"  And  he  spoke  to  Mrs. 
Marsden  with  sentimental  solicitude.  "  There  will  be  a 
plain-clothes  constable  in  St.  Saviour's  Court,  watching  your 
door  till  the  evening.  But  you  needn't  be  afraid.  Our 
friend  won't  venture  to  go  there." 

Mr.  Prentice  sat  at  the  head  of  his  table,  looking  dazed 
and  confused.  He  and  his  whole  house  were  taken  posses- 
sion of  by  Collins ;  policemen  walked  in  and  out ;  astounding 
things  happened  —  the  morning's  work  had  been  almost  too 
much  for  him. 

With  an  effort  he  got  upon  his  legs  to  bow  and  smile  at 
Mrs.  Marsden,  as  she  and  Bence  went  out. 

"Well  now,"  said  Collins;  and  he  shut  his  black  bag. 
"  I  don't  think  that,  under  the  peculiar  conditions  of  the 
case,  anything  could  have  been  more  satisfactory  —  do  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  sitting  down  again  "  you 
know,  as  well  as  I  do,  that  what  Marsden  said  was  true. 
He  could  make  her  account  to  the.  firm  for  all  her  profits. in 

323 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Bence's.     Such     an     investment 
lawful." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Collins,  enthusiastically 
blinking  behind  his  spectacles.  "  It's  great  —  that's  what 
it  is;  and  I'm  proud  to  have  carried  it  through  for  her." 

Mr.  Prentice  really  did  not  know  what  to  say. 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  something  more.  If  it  isn't  law,  it's 
justice.  I've  never  been  such  a  stickler  as  you  for  mere  out- 
ward form.  Here  were  two  people  in  terrible  difficulty  — 
Bence  and  Mrs.  Marsden.  She  saw  the  way  to  save  them 
both,  and  had  the  grit  to  take  all  risks  and  do  it.  That  was 
good  enough  for  me.  As  I  say,  I'm  not  so  formal  as  you. 
I  don't  let  a  string  of  red  tape  trip  up  a  brave  woman  when 
she's  running  for  her  life  —  that  is,  if  I  can  prevent  it. 
.  .  .  Good  morning,  Prentice.  Good  morning  to  you." 


XXIX 

HOWEVER  he  might  demur  at  first,  Mr.  Prentice  soon 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  truly  great. 

Perhaps  at  first  he  was  so  completely  flabbergasted  by  the 
surprise  of  the  thing  that  he  could  not  really  take  it  all  in; 
his  numbed  brain,  only  partially  working,  fixed  upon  techni- 
cal objections  to  the  conduct  of  affairs  by  Hyde  &  Collins; 
and  then,  with  awakening  comprehension  of  a  masterly  coup, 
the  sense  of  having  been  left  out  in  the  cold  diminished  his 
delight.  But  this  soon  passed,  and  he  began  to  glow  joy- 
ously. 

Yes,  great!  No  other  word  for  it!  Magnificent  justifi- 
cation of  all  that  he  had  ever  said  and  thought  of  her! 

Not  weak,  but  strong  —  as  strong  as  she  used  to  be ;  no, 
stronger  than  at  any  time.  And  he  thought  of  her,  over- 
whelmed with  misfortunes,  hemmed  round  by  insurmount- 
able difficulties,  brought  lower  and  lower,  until  she  was 
apparently  so  impotent  and  negligible  a  unit  in  the  town's 
life  that  she  had  become  an  object  of  contemptuous  pity  to 
the  very  crossing-sweepers.  He  thought  of  what  the  scien- 
tists say  about  the  conservation  of  energy  and  the  indestruc- 
tibility of  matter.  Great  natural  forces  cannot  be  wiped  out. 
Just  when  they  seem  gone,  you  get  a  fresh  manifestation  — 
the  same  force  in  another  form.  And  so  it  was  here.  Mrs. 
Marsden,  seemingly  abolished,  bursts  out  in  another  place, 
explodes  the  debris  of  ruin  that  was  holding  her  down, 
changes  direction,  and  rises  in  blazing  triumph  on  the  other 
side  of  the  street. 

325 


MRS.  THOMPSON* 

Wonderful !  "  Not  now ;  but  perhaps  later,  when  the 
time  comes " —  he  remembered  her  words.  "  I  must  do 
things  my  own  way."  Yes,  her  own  way  was  right  —  be- 
cause her  way  is  the  way  of  genius.  A  veritable  stroke  of 
genius  —  no  lesser  term  will  do, —  seeming  so  simple  to  look 
back  at,  although  so  impenetrable  till  it  was  explained! 
She  had  seen  the  only  means  by  which  she  could  successfully 
extricate  herself  from  an  impossible  situation.  Only  she 
could  have  escaped  the  imminent  disaster.  Only  she  could 
have  turned  an  overwhelming  defeat  into  a  transcendent 
victory. 

"  Talk  about  giving  women  the  vote,"  cried  Mr.  Prentice 
noisily.  "  That  woman  ought  to  be  prime  minister." 

Mrs.  Prentice,  rejoicing  at  the  good  news,  wished  that 
her  husband  could  have  told  it  less  vociferously.  It  hap- 
pened that  this  evening  she  was  the  victim  of  a  bilious  head- 
ache, and  she  lay  supine  on  a  sofa,  unable  to  sit  up  for 
dinner.  The  slightest  noise  made  her  headache  worse,  and 
the  mere  smell  of  food  was  distressing. 

Mr.  Prentice,  banging  in  and  out  of  the  room,  let  sa- 
voury odours  reach  her ;  and  his  exultant  voice  set  up  a  pain- 
ful throbbing.  "  I  told  you  so  all  along.  .  .  .  What 
did  I  say  from  the  beginning?  .  .  .  Colossal  brain 
power !  No  one  like  her !  " 

This  really  was  the  substance  of  all  that  he  had  to  say, 
and  he  had  already  said  it;  yet  he  kept  running  in  from  the 
dinner  table  to  say  it  again. 

A  bottle  of  the  very  best  champagne  was  opened ;  and  he 
brought  the  invalid  a  glass  of  it,  to  drink  Mrs.  Marsden's 
health.  Mrs.  Prentice,  staunchly  obeying,  drank  the  old, 
still  wine,  and  immediately  felt  as  if  she  had  stepped  from 
an  ocean-going  liner  into  a  dancing  row-boat. 

In  the  exuberance  of  his  rapture,  Mr.  Prentice  also  invited 
the  parlourmaid  to  drink  Mrs.  Marsden's  health. 

326 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  There,  toss  that  off  —  to  the  most  remarkable  lady 
youvt  ever  seen." 

"  Yes,  sir.  She  is  a  nice  lady,  sir  —  and  always  speaks 
so  sensible." 

"Sensible/  Why,  bless  my  soul,  there's  no  one  in  the 
length  and  breadth  of  England  that  can  hold  a  candle  to  her 
for  sheer — "  But  he  could  not  of  course  talk  freely  of: 
these  high  matters  to  a  parlourmaid.  So  he  trotted  off  to 
the  other  room,  to  tell  Mrs.  Prentice  once  again. 

As  he  walked  to  the  office  next  morning,  he  hummed  one: 
of  the  comic  songs  that  he  had  not  sung  for  years,  and 
snapped  his  fingers  by  way  of  Castanet  accompaniment.  He 
felt  so  light-hearted  and  joyous  that  he  would  have  willingly 
thrown  his  square  hat  in  the  air,  and  cut  capers  on  the  pave- 
ment. 

He  could  not  work.  For  two  or  three  days  he  was  quite 
unable  to  attend  to  ordinary  business.  When  clients  came 
to  talk  about  themselves,  he  scarcely  listened ;  but,  giving 
the  conversation  a  violent  wrench,  began  talking  to  them 
about  Mrs.  Marsden. 

Then  one  afternoon  he  was  taken  with  a  burning  desire 
for  a  quiet  chat  with  Archibald  Bence.  If  he  could  get  hold 
of  little  Archibald  and  ply  him  with  questions,  he  would  ob- 
tain all  sorts  of  delightful  explanatory  details  concerning 
Mrs.  Marsden's  splendid  mystery. 

He  hurried  down  High  Street,  and,  approaching  the  old 
shop,  was  puzzled  by  a  strange  phenomenon. 

The  pavement  in  front  of  Marsden  &  Thompson's  seemed 
to  be  blocked  by  a  dense  crowd.  The  blinds  were  drawn 
on  the  upper  floor;  the  iron  shutters  masked  the  windows 
and  doors  on  the  ground  floor:  the  whole  shop  was  closed 
—  and  yet  there  were  infinitely  more  people  lingering  out- 
side it  than  when  it  had  been  open. 

White  bills  on  all  the  shutters  showed  the  cause  of  the 
327 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

phenomenon.  "  Astonishing  Bargains  " —  these  two  porten- 
tous words  headed  each  white  placard  in  monstrous 
red  capitals ;  — "  Bence  Brothers,  having  acquired  this  old- 
established  business,  will  clear  the  entire  stock,  together  with 
surplus  and  slightly  soiled  goods  from  their  own  house,  at 
heart-breaking  reductions  on  cost ;  " — "  Opening  9  A.  M. 
Monday  next.  Come  early.  This  is  not  an  ordinary  bar- 
gain sale,  but  a  forced  sacrifice  by  which  only  the  public  can 
benefit."  And  the  public,  eager  for  the  benefit,  wishing  that 
it  was  already  Monday,  pressed  and  strove  to  read  and  re- 
read the  white  and  red  notices  on  the  iron  shutters. 

"  Don't  push,"  said  one  nursemaid  to  another.  "  Take 
your  turn.  I've  just  as  much  right  to  see  as  you  have." 

Mr.  Prentice  laughed  heartily  and  happily.  He  thought 
as  he  crossed  the  road  and  entered  Bence's,  "  What  a  dog 
this  Archibald  is  —  to  be  sure!  " 

He  found  the  grand  little  man  in  his  private  room,  and 
was  affably  received  by  him. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Archibald,  sniggering  modestly.  "  We 
hope  to  make  rather  a  big  thing  of  our  clearance  sale. 
.  .  .  How  long  shall  we  keep  it  going?  Well,  that  de- 
pends. It  wouldn't  last  long,  if  we'd  nothing  to  dispose  of 
beyond  what's  left  over  there;  but  we  shall  clear  this  side  at 
the  same  time." 

And  Bence  rattled  on  glibly,  as  though  Mr.  Prentice  had 
come  to  interview  him  for  an  article  in  an  important  news- 
paper. 

"  The  ancient  notion  was  that  this  kind  of  special  selling 
took  the  cream  off  one's  ordinary  trade.  But  experience 
has  taught  us  that  such  is  not  the  case.  We  find  that  trade 
breeds  trade.  And  you  can't  tire  your  public  —  you  can't 
over-stimulate  them.  It  is  the  excited  public  that  is  your 
best  buying  public." 

Mr.   Prentice  listened   respectfully;  and  then,   after  the 

328 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

manner  of  a  good  interviewer,  begged  the  host  to  pass  from 
general  views  to  personal  reminiscences. 

"  What  is  it  you  wish  to  know?  " 

"  About  you  and  her,"  said  Prentice.  "  I  should  enor- 
mously like  to  know  the  inward  history  of  it." 

"Well,  now  that  the  secret's  out,"  said  Archibald,  rub- 
bing his  chin,  and  wrinkling  the  flesh  round  his  bright 
little  eyes,  "  I  suppose  there's  no  harm  in  speaking  about 
it." 

"  Certainly  not  to  me,"  said  Prentice.  "  Although  I 
wasn't  in  her  confidence  about  this,  I  am  a  real  true  friend 
of  hers." 

"  I  know  you  are,"  said  Bence  cordially.  "  She  has  said 
so  a  hundred  times." 

"  Tell  me  how  it  began  —  the  very  beginning  of  things." 

A  gloomy  cloud  passed  over  Bence's  animated  face. 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  don't  care  to  look  back  upon  those 
days.  I  was  in  such  bitter  trouble,  Mr.  Prentice." 

"  When  did  you  think  of  going  to  her?  " 

"  I  never  thought  of  it.  She  came  to  me.  I  couldn't 
believe  my  ears  when  she  opened  the  matter." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"  Oh,  she  didn't  beat  about  the  bush.  She  said,  if  it  was 
really  true  that  I  wanted  money,  she  might  supply  it  — 
on  certain  terms." 

"  Yes,  yes  —  and  tell  me,  my  dear  fellow,  what  were  her 
terms?" 

"  Mr.  Prentice,"  said  Bence  solemnly,  "  her  terms  were 
terrible  —  it  was  just  buying  me  at  a  knock-out  price." 

"You  don't  say  so?" 

"  The  fact.     .     .     .     This  is  as  between  Masons,  isn't  it? 

.     .     I  may  consider  that  we  are  tiled  in." 

"  Yes,  yes  —  as  brother  to  brother." 

And  then  Bence,  who  was  never  averse  to  hearing  the 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

sound  of  his  own  voice  when  safe  and  suitable  occasions 
offered,  talked  with  unchecked  freedom  and  confidence. 

"  You  know,  I'd  always  entertained  the  highest  and  most 
genuine  respect  for  her.  When  they  used  to  say  she  was 
the  best  man  of  business  in  Mallingbridge,  there  was  no  one 
more  ready  to  admit  it  than  I  was.  I  regarded  her  as  right 
up  there,"  and  he  waved  his  hand  towards  the  ceiling. 
"  Right  up  —  one  of  the  largest  and  most  comprehensive 
int'lects  of  the  age." 

"Just  so  —  just  so." 

"  And  I  don't  mind  confessing  I  was  always  a  bit  afraid 
of  her.  Years  ago  —  oh,  I  don't  know  how  many  years 
ago  —  when  I  was  passing  compliments  to  her,  she'd  look 
at  me,  not  a  bit  unkind,  but  inscrutable  —  yes,  that's  it  — 
inscrutable,  and  say,  '  You  take  care,  Mr.  Bence.  Don't 
jump  too  big,  or  one  day  you'll  jump  over  yourself.'  " 

"  Meaning  your  various  extensions?  " 

"  Yes.  It  always  made  me  uncomfortable  when  she  spoke 
like  that  —  though  I  just  laughed  it  off.  Anyhow,  it  seemed 
to  show  how  clear  she  saw  through  one." 

"  Yes,  nothing  escaped  her." 

"  So  I  thought  I  knew  what  she  was  —  but  I  never  did 
really  know  what  she  was,  till  we  came  to  fair  handy  grips 
over  this.  .  .  .  Mr.  Prentice,  I  flattered  her  —  no  go. 
I  tried  to  bluff  her  —  ditto.  Then  I  sued  to  her  for  mercy. 
I  said,  *  Madam,  I'm  like  a  wounded  man  on  a  field  of 
battle  asking  for  a  cup  of  water.'  But  she  said,  *  If  I 
understand  the  position  correctly,  Mr.  Bence,  you  are  more 
like  a  dead  man;  and  you  ask  to  be  brought  to  life  again.' 
.  .  .  And  it  was  true.  I  was  dead  —  down  —  done 
for.  .  .  . 

"It  was  my  brothers  —  God  forgive  them — who  had 
frustrated  me  —  not  bad  luck  —  or  any  faults  of  mine. 
Take,  take,  take  —  whatever  my  work  produced,  out  it  went. 

330 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

.  .  .  Well  then,  I  was  what  she  described  —  lying  at  her 
feet,  and  praying  for  life.  So  I  said  I'd  take  it  —  on  her 
own  terms.  .  .  . 

"But  when  it  was  over,  oh,  Mr.  Prentice  the  relief!  I 
had  lit'rally  come  to  life  again.  I  was  safe  —  with  money 
behind,  me, —  with  driving  power  behind  me.  I  went  home 
that  night  to  Mrs.  Bence  and  cried  as  if  I'd  been  a  baby  — 
and  after  I'd  had  my  cry,  I  slept.  What's  that  proverb? 
Sleep,  it  is  a  blessed  thing!  I  hadn't  slept  sound  for  years. 
Don't  you  see?  I  was  certain  we  should  go  on  all  right 
now  —  now  that  the  burden  was  on  her  shoulders." 

And  then  Bence  had  his  idiosyncratic  touch  of  self-pity. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  were  aware  of  it,  Mr.  Pren- 
tice —  these  things  get  about  when  one  is  more  or  less  a 
public  man, —  but  the  incessant  worry  had  given  me  kidney 
disease.  Well, —  will  you  believe  it  ?  —  from  that  hour  I 
got  better.  The  doctors  reported  less, —  less  again, —  and 
at  last,  not  a  trace  of  it.  I  was  simply  another  man." 

"  But,  Bence,  my  dear  fellow,  what  fills  me  with  such 
amazement  and  admiration  is  the  rapidity  of  your  success 
from  that  point.  You  seemed  to  be  on  the  crest  of  the 
wave  instantaneously." 

"  Ah !  That  was  the  magician's  wand.  Instead  of  hav- 
ing our  earnings  snatched  out  the  moment  they  reached  the 
till,  the  profits  were  being  put  back  into  the  concern.  I 
was  working  on  a  salary  —  a  very  handsome  one  —  with 
my  commission;  and  she  never  took  out  a  penny  more  than 
was  absolutely  necessary.  There  was  the  whole  difference 
—  and  it's  magic  in  trade.  I  was  given  scope,  capital,  an 
easy  road  —  with  no  blind  turnings." 

"  But  I  suppose  you  did  it  all  under  her  direction  ?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know  how  to  answer  that;"  and  Bence 
grinned,  and  twirled  his  moustache.  "  No.  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  say  no.  I  had  full  scope  —  and  was  never  inter~ 
22  331 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

fered  with.  .  .  .  We  used  to  meet  at  Hyde  &  Collins's ; 
and  I  reported  things  —  just  reported  them.  She  used  to 
look  at  me  in  that  inscrutable  way  of  hers,  and  say,  *  I  can't 
advise.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  business  —  beyond 
having  my  money  in  it:  just  as  I  might  have  it  in  any  other 
form  of  investment.  But  speaking  merely  as  an  outsider,  I 
think  you  are  going  on  very  nice.  Go  on  just  the  same,  Mr. 
Bence.'  Sometimes  she  did  drop  a  word.  It  was  always 
light.  .  .  .  Oh,  she's  unique,  Mr.  Prentice  —  quite 
unique." 

Bence  grinned  more  broadly  as  he  went  on. 

"  Of  course  it  was  by  her  orders  —  or  I  ought  to  say, 
it  was  acting  on  a  hint  she  let  fall,  that  I  made  myself  so 
popular  with  the  authorities.  You  never  came  to  one  of 
my  dinner-parties?  .  .  .  No,  I  did  ask  you;  but  you 
wouldn't  come.  .  .  .  Well,  you're  acquainted  with 
Mallingbridge  oratory.  After  dinner,  when  the  speeches  be- 
gan, they  used  to  butter  me  up  to  the  skies ;  and  I  used  to  tell 
them  straight  —  though  of  course  they  couldn't  see  it  — 
that  I  was  only  a  figure-head,  a  dummy.  '  Don't  praise 
me'  I  told  'em,  '  I'm  nobody  —  just  the  outward  sign  of 
the  enterprise  and  spirit  that  lays  behind  me.'  Yes,  and  I 
put  it  straighter  than  that  sometimes  —  it  tickled  me  to 
give  'em  the  truth  almost  in  the  plainest  words.  .  .  . 
And  I  knew  there  was  no  risk.  They'd  never  tumble  to 
it." 

After  this  delightful  conversation,  Mr.  Prentice  went 
across  the  road  again.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  any  longer 
refrain  from  calling  upon  Mrs.  Marsden;  and,  as  the  after- 
noon was  now  well  advanced,  he  thought  that  she  might 
perhaps  invite  him  to  drink  a  cup  of  tea  with  her. 

In  St.  Saviour's  Court  the  house  door  stood  open;  men 
from  Bence's  Furniture  department  were  busily  delivering 
chairs  and  sofas;  and  the  narrow  passage  was  obstructed  by 

332 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

further  goods.     Mr.  Prentice  heard  a  familiar  voice  issuing 
instructions  with  a  sharp  tone  of  command. 

"  This  is  for  the  top  floor.  Front  bedroom.  Take  this 
up  too  —  same  room.  .  .  .  Who's  that  out  there  ? 
Oh,  is  it  you,  Mr.  Prentice  ?  " 

"  What,  Yates,  you  are  soon  on  duty  again." 

Old  Yates  laughed  and  tossed  her  head.  "  Yes,  sir,  here 
I  am.  .  j  .  That's  for  the  top  floor  —  back.  Take  it 
up  steady,  now." 

"  You  seem  to  be  refurnishing  —  and  on  a  large  scale." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Yates.  "  We're  only  putting  things 
straight.  We're  expecting  Mrs.  Kenion  and  the  young  lady 
up  from  Eastbourne  to-night  —  and  it's  a  job  to  get  the 
house  ready  in  the  time." 

"  Ah,  then  I  am  afraid  visitors  will  hardly  be  welcome 
just  now." 

"  No,  sir,  not  ordinary  visitors  —  but  Mrs.  Thompson 
never  counted  you  as  an  ordinary  visitor  —  did  she,  sir? 
I'll  take  on  me  to  say  you\\  be  weclome  to  Mrs.  Thompson. 
Please  go  upstairs,  sir.  She's  in  the  dining-room." 

And  truly  this  visitor  was  welcomed  most  cordially. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Prentice.  How  kind  of  you  —  how  very 
kind  of  you  to  come!  I  have  been  wishing  so  to  see  you." 

Yates  without  delay  disengaged  herself  from  the  furniture 
men,  and  brought  in  tea.  Then  the  hostess  seated  herself 
at  the  table,  and  insisted  that  the  visitor  should  occupy  the 
easiest  of  the  new  armchairs  —  and  she  smiled  at  him,  she 
waited  upon  him,  she  made  much  of  him;  she  lulled  and 
soothed  and  charmed  him,  until  he  felt  as  if  twenty  years 
had  rolled  away,  and  he  and  she  were  back  again  in  the 
happiest  of  the  happy  old  days. 

"  I  trust  that  dear  Mrs.  Prentice  is  well.  .  .  .  Ah, 
yes,  it  is  headachy  weather,  isn't  it.  I  have  ventured  to 
send  her  a  few  flowers  —  and  some  peaches  and  grapes." 

333 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

It  seemed  incredible.  But  she  looked  younger  —  many 
years  younger  than  when  he  had  seen  her  in  the  shadow 
cast  by  his  office  wall  less  than  a  week  ago.  Her  voice  had 
something  of  the  old  resonance;  she  sat  more  upright;  she 
carried  her  head  better.  She  was  still  dressed  in  black;  but 
this  new  costume  was  of  fine  material,  fashionable  cut,  very 
becoming  pattern;  and  it  gave  to  its  wearer  a  quiet  im- 
portance and  a  sedate  but  opulent  pomp.  Very  curious! 
It  was  as  if  all  that  impression  of  shabbiness,  insignificance, 
and  poverty  had  been  caused  merely  by  the  shadow;  and 
that  as  soon  as  she  came  out  of  the  shadow  into  the  sunlight, 
one  saw  her  as  she  really  was,  and  not  as  one  had  foolishly 
imagined  her  to  be. 

This  thought  was  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Prentice  while 
he  listened  to  her  pleasantly  firm  voice,  and  watched  the 
play  of  light  and  life  about  her  kind  and  friendly  eyes.  The 
shadow  that  had  lain  so  heavy  upon  her  was  mercifully 
lifted.  She  had  been  a  prisoner  to  the  powers  of  darkness, 
and  now  the  sunshine  had  set  her  free.  This  was  really 
all  that  had  happened. 

"  I  am  so  particularly  glad,"  she  was  saying,  "  that  you 
came  to-day,  because  I  want  your  advice  badly." 

"  It  is  very  much  at  your  service." 

"  Then  do  you  think  there  would  be  any  objection  — 
would  you  consider  it  might  seem  bad  taste  if  henceforth  I 
were  to  resume  my  old  name?  I  have  an  affection  for  the 
name  of  Thompson  —  though  it  isn't  a  very  high-sounding 
one." 

"  I  noticed  that  Yates  called  you  Mrs.  Thompson." 

"Yes,  I  mentioned  my  idea  to  Yates;  but  I  told  her 
I  shouldn't  do  it  without  consulting  you.  I  did  not  think 
of  dropping  my  real  name  altogether,  but  I  thought  I  might 
perhaps  call  myself  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson  —  with  or 
without  a  hyphen." 

334 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

And  she  went  on  to  explain  that  she  was  doubtful  as  to 
the  legal  aspects  of  the  case.  She  did  not  wish  to  adver- 
tise the  change  of  name,  or  to  make  it  a  formal  and  binding 
change.  She  just  wished  to  call  herself  Mrs.  Marsden 
Thompson. 

"  Very  well,  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson,  consider  it  done. 
For  there's  nothing  to  prevent  your  doing  it.  Your  friends 
will  call  you  by  any  name  you  tell  them  to  use  —  with  or 
without  a  hyphen." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  say  that.  I  was  afraid  you  might 
not  approve.  .  .  .  And  now  I  want  your  advice  about 
something  else.  It  is  a  house  with  a  little  land  that  I  am 
most  anxious  to  buy,  if  I  can  possibly  manage  it  —  and  I 
want  you  to  find  out  if  the  owners  would  be  inclined  to  sell." 

Mr.  Prentice  advised  her  on  this  and  several  other  little 
matters.  Indeed,  before  his  third  cup  of  tea  was  finished, 
he  had  made  enlightening  replies  to  questions  that  related 
to  half  a  dozen  different  subjects. 

"  Thank  you.  A  thousand  thanks.  Some  more  tea,  Mr. 
Prentice?" 

But  Mr.  Prentice  did  not  answer  this  last  question.  He 
put  down  his  empty  cup,  and  began  to  laugh  heartily. 

"  Why  are  you  laughing  like  that  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson,"  he  said  jovially.  "  For 
once  I  have  seen  through  you.  All  things  are  permissible  to 
your  sex ;  but  if  you  were  a  man,  I  should  be  tempted  to  say 
you  are  an  impostor  —  an  arch-impostor." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Prentice!     Why?" 

"  Because  you  don't  really  think  my  advice  worth  a  straw. 
You  don't  want  my  advice,  or  anybody  else's.  No  one  is 
capable  of  advising  you.  You  just  do  things  in  your  own 
way  —  and  a  very  remarkable  way  it  is." 

"  But  really  and  truly  I  — " 

"  No.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  You  fancied  that  my  feathers 
335 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

might  have  been  rubbed  the  wrong  way  by  recent  surprises; 
and  ever  since  I  came  into  this  room,  you  have  been  most 
delicately  smoothing  my  ruffled  plumage." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson  demurely,  "  I 
assure  you  — " 

"  Yes,  yes.  But,  my  dear,  it  wasn't  in  the  least  necessary. 
I  am  just  as  pleased  as  Punch,  and  I  have  quite  forgiven 
you  for  keeping  me  so  long  in  the  dark." 

"  On  my  honour,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  I  wouldn't  have 
kept  you  in  the  dark  for  one  day,  if  I  could  have  avoided 
doing  so.  It  was  most  painful  to  me,  dear  Mr.  Prentice, 
to  practice  —  or  rather,  to  allow  of  any  deception  where 
you  were  concerned.  .  .  .  But  my  course  was  so  diffi- 
cult to  steer." 

"  You  steered  it  splendidly." 

"  But  I  do  want  you  to  understand.  I  shall  be  miserable 
if  I  think  that  you  could  ever  harbour  the  slightest  feeling 
of  resentment." 

"  Of  course  I  shan't." 

"  Or  if  you  don't  believe  that  I  trust  you  absolutely,  and 
have  the  greatest  possible  regard  for  your  professional  skill. 
.  .  .  You  may  remember  how  I  almost  told  you  about  it." 

"  No,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  remember  that." 

"  Well,  I  tried  to  explain  —  indirectly  —  that  the  whole 
affair  was  so  complicated.  .  .  .  There  were  so  many- 
things  to  be  thought  of.  There  was  Enid.  I  had  to  think 
of  her  all  the  time.  .  .  .  Honestly,  I  put  her  before 
myself.  Until  Enid  could  get  rid  of  Kenion,  it  didn't  seem 
much  use  for  me  to  get  rid  of  poor  Richard.  .  .  .  And 
if  either  of  them  had  guessed,  everything  might  have  gone 
wrong  —  I  mean,  might  have  worked  out  differently.  And 
of  course  it  made  secrecy  of  such  vital  importance.  You 
do  understand  that,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Prentice,  laughing  contentedly,  "  I  do 
336 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

understand.  But  now  I  wonder  —  would  you  mind  telling 
me  when  it  was  that  you  first  thought  of  the  Bence  coup?  " 

"  Well,  I  fancy  that  the  germ  of  the  idea  came  to  me  in 
church;"  and  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson  folded  her  hands, 
and  looked  reflectively  at  the  tea-cups.  "  I  was  thinking 
of  Richard,  and  of  Mr.  Bence  —  and  then  some  verses  in 
a  psalm  struck  me  most  forcibly.  One  verse  especially  — 
I  shall  never  forget  it.  '  Let  his  days  be  few ;  and  let  an- 
other take  his  office.'  " 

"How  did  that  apply?" 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  thought  vaguely  —  quite  vaguely  — 
that  if  Richard  was  bad  at  managing  a  business,  Mr.  Bence 
was  rather  good  at  it.  ...  Then,  that  very  evening, 
you  so  kindly  came  in  to  supper,  and  told  me  as  a  positive 
fact  that  Bence  was  nearly  done  for.  And  then  it  struck 
me  at  once  that,  in  the  long  run,  Bence's  failure  could 
prove  of  advantage  to  nobody,  and  that  it  ought  to  be  pre- 
vented ;  "  and  she  looked  up  brightly,  and  smiled  at  Mr. 
Prentice.  "  So  really  and  truly,  it  is  you  that  I  have  to 
thank.  You  brought  me  that  Invaluable  information.  You 
inspired  me  to  do  it." 

Mr.  Prentice  got  up  from  the  easy  chair,  and  playfully 
shook  a  forefinger  at  his  hostess. 

"  Now  —  now.  Don't  drag  me  into  it.  I'm  too  old  a 
bird  to  be  caught  with  chaff." 

"  But  I  am  truly  forgiven  ? "  And  she  stretched  out 
her  hand  towards  him.  "  Not  the  smallest  soreness  left? 
You  will  still  be  what  you  have  always  been  —  my  best  and 
kindest  friend  ?  " 

Mr.  Prentice  took  her  hand;  and,  with  a  graceful  old- 
world  air  of  gallantry  that  perhaps  the  headachy  lady  at 
home  had  never  seen,  he  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"  I  shall  be  what  I  have  always  been  —  your  humble, 
admiring  slave." 

337 


XXX 

ONE  of  the  oldest  of  her  dreams  had  become  partially 
true.  She  had  bought  that  pretty  country-house,  and  was 
living  in  it  with  Enid.  Not  the  total  fulfilment  of  the 
dream,  because  she  had  not  retired  from  business.  She  was 
busier  than  ever. 

Many  things  foretold  by  her  had  now  come  to  pass.  The 
military  camp  on  the  downs,  with  its  twenty  thousand 
armed  men  and  half  as  many  thousand  followers,  had 
brought  increased  prosperity  to  the  neighbourhood;  the  car- 
riage and  locomotive  works  established  by  the  railway  com- 
pany had  added  to  the  old  town  another  town  that  by 
itself  would  have  been  big  enough  to  sustain  a  mayor  and 
corporation;  builders  could  not  build  fast  enough  to  house 
the  rapidly  swelling  population;  the  well-filled  suburbs 
stretched  for  two  long  miles  in  all  directions  from  the  an- 
cient town  boundaries;  and  by  platform  lecturers,  by  mem- 
bers of  parliament,  by  writers  of  statistical  reviews,  the 
growth  of  Mallingbridge  was  cited  as  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable and  gratifying  achievements  of  the  last  decade. 

In  a  word  —  the  cant  word  —  Mallingbridge  had  boomed. 
And  right  at  the  top  of  the  boom,  rolling  on  to  glory,  was 
Bence's. 

The  prodigious  success  of  Bence's  made  the  world  gasp. 
Nothing  could  hinder  it.  People  fancied  that  the  rebuild- 
ing might  prove  a  dangerous,  if  not  a  fatal  crisis  in  its 
affairs;  but  the  proprietress  accomplished  the  colossal  opera- 
tion without  even  a  temporary  set-back.  She  moved 
Bence's  bodily  across  the  road,  squashed  it  into  the  con- 

.338 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

fines  of  old  Thompson's,  and  left  it  there  for  eighteen 
months  while  the  new  Bence  palace  was  being  erected. 
The  magnificence  of  these  modern  up-to-date  premises  sur- 
passed belief  —  facade  of  pure  white  stone ;  gigantic  carya- 
tids, bearing  on  their  heads  the  projected  ledge  of  the 
second  floor,  and  holding  in  their  hands  the  sculptured 
brackets  of  the  monstrous  arc  lamps;  fluted  columns  from 
the  second  floor  to  the  fourth;  and  above  the  deep  cornice, 
just  visible  from  the  street,  the  cupola  on  top  of  the  vast 
dome  that  was  the  crowning  splendour  of  the  whole. 

Then  directly  the  shop  had  been  moved  back  into  this 
ornate  frame,  down  went  the  old  red-brick  block  of 
Thompson's;  and  on  the  site  still  another  palace  for  Bence 
began  to  rise.  It  seemed  no  less  magnificent  than  the 
other;  and  it  was  finished  off  —  by  way  of  balance  to  the 
dome  —  with  a  stupendous  clock-tower.  The  local  press, 
in  a  series  of  articles  describing  this  useful  monument,  said 
that  the  four-faced  time-piece  was  an  exact  replica  of  Big 
Ben  at  Westminster;  the  base  of  the  numeral  twelve  was 
one  hundred  and  thirty-two  feet  above  the  pavement;  the 
small  hand  was  as  long  as  a  short  man,  and  the  long  hand 
was  longer  than  an  excessively  tall  man ;  —  and  so  on.  The 
author  of  the  articles  also  stated  that  the  architectural  effect 
of  Bence  on  both  sides  of  the  street  was  very  similar  to 
the  coup  d'ceil  offered  by  the  dome  and  tower  of  the  ca- 
thedral at  Florence. 

Customers  scarcely  knew  on  which  side  of  the  street  they 
were  doing  their  shopping:  they  went  into  one  of  the  two 
palaces,  and  surprised  themselves  by  emerging  from  the 
other.  You  entered  a  lift,  and,  as  it  swooped,  the  crowded 
floors  flashed  upward.  "Which  department,  madam? 
Parisian  Jewellery?  .  .  .  Boots  and  Shoes!  Step  this 
way."  You  passed  through  a  long,  narrow  and  brilliantly 
illuminated  department,  such  as  Sham  Diamonds  or  Opera 

339 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Cloaks,  where  artificial  light  is  a  necessity  for  correct  selec- 
tion; you  went  up  a  broad  flight  of  shallow  stairs;  and 
there  you  were,  in  Boots  and  Shoes.  But  the  thing  you 
didn't  know,  the  funny  thing,  was  that  all  unconsciously 
you  had  been  through  a  sub-way  under  the  road.  Just 
when  you  stood  to  gape  at  the  sparkling  ear-rings  or  to 
finger  the  rich  soft  cloaks,  the  heavy  traffic  of  High  Street 
was  bang  over  your  head. 

And  truly  there  was  nothing  that  you  could  not  buy  now 
at  Bence's —  on  one  side  of  the  road  or  the  .other.  Ball 
dresses  for  as  much  as  fifty  guineas,  tailor-made  walking 
costumes  for  as  little  as  eighteen  shillings,  a  thousand  pound 
coat  of  Russian  sable,  or  a  farthing  packet  of  pins,  palm 
trees  for  the  conservatory  or  Brussels  sprouts  for  the  kitchen 
—  whatever  the  varied  wants  of  the  universe,  it  was  Bence's 
proud  boast  that  they  could  be  supplied  here  without  failure 
or  delay. 

Sometimes  when  business  had  taken  Mrs.  Marsden  to 
London  and  she  and  Yates  were  driving  through  the  streets 
in  a  four-wheeled  cab,  she  studied  the  appearance  of  the 
great  metropolitan  shops,  and  mentally  compared  them  with 
what  she  had  left  behind  her  at  Mallingbridge.  Once, 
when  the  dusk  of  an  autumn  day  was  falling  and  she 
chanced  to  pass  the  most  world-famous  of  all  emporiums, 
she  told  the  cabman  to  let  his  horse  walk;  then,  as  they 
crawled  by  the  endless  frontage,  she  measured  the  glare  of 
the  electric  lamps,  counted  the  big  commissionaires,  estimated 
the  volume  of  the  crowd  outside  the  glittering  windows; 
and,  critically  examining  the  thing  in  its  entirety,  she  felt 
a  supreme  satisfaction.  To  her  eye  and  judgment  it  was  no 
bigger,  brighter,  or  more  impressive  than  Bence's.  In  all 
respects  Bence's  was  every  bit  as  good. 

Each  morning,  fair  or  foul,  at  nine-thirty  sharp,  she  left 
her  charming  and  luxurious  home,  and  came  spinning  in  her 

340 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

small  motor-car  down  the  three-mile  slope  that  now  divided 
house  from  shop.  The  car,  avoiding  High  Street,  wheeled 
round  through  Trinity  Square,  worked  its  swift  way  to  the 
back  of  Bence's,  swept  into  a  quiet,  stately  court-yard,  and 
delivered  her  at  the  perron  of  a  noble  architraved  doorway. 
This  was  the  private  or  business  entrance  to  the  domed 
palace. 

A  porter  in  sombre  livery  was  waiting  on  the  marble 
steps  to  receive  her,  to  carry  her  shawl  or  reticule,  to  usher 
her  to  the  golden  gates  of  the  private  lift. 

In  a  minute  she  had  majestically  soared  to  an  upper 
floor. 

This  managerial  side  of  the  building  would  not  unworthily 
have  formed  a  portion  of  a  public  department,  such  as  the 
Treasury  or  India  Office:  it  was  all  spacious,  silent,  grand. 
She  passed  through  a  wide  and  lofty  corridor,  with  mahogany 
doors  on  either  hand  —  the  closed  doors  of  the  managers' 
rooms;  and  no  sound  of  the  shop  was  audible,  no  sign  of  it 
visible. 

Her  own  room,  at  the  end  of  the  corridor,  was  very  large, 
very  high,  very  plainly  decorated.  Mahogany  book-cases, 
with  a  few  busts  on  top  of  them;  one  table  with  newspapers 
of  all  countries,  another  table  with  four  or  five  telephonic 
instruments  —  but  absolutely  no  office  equipment  of  any  sort : 
not  so  much  as  a  writing  desk,  Yankee  or  British.  She 
scarcely  ever  writes  a  letter  now;  even  marginal  notes  are 
dictated.  Time  is  too  precious  to  be  wasted  on  manual 
labour,  however  rapid.  Time  is  capital;  and  it  must  be 
invested  in  the  way  that  will  yield  the  highest  interest. 

"What  is  the  time?"  and  she  glanced  at  the  clock  on 
the  carved  stone  mantelpiece. 

"  It  wants  seven  minutes  of  ten." 

All  clocks  are  correct,  because  they  are  carefully  syn- 
chronized with  the  clock  in  the  tower;  and  that  must  be 

341 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

correct,  because  time-signals  from  Greenwich  are  continually 
instructing  it  —  and  the  whole  town  works  by  Bence  time. 

"  Good.     Then  I  am  not  late." 

"  No,  madam." 

She  came  earlier  now  than  she  used  to  do  a  little  while 
ago.  But  since  Mr.  Archibald  finally  withdrew  from  affairs, 
she  has  been  in  sole  charge  of  the  mighty  organization.  She 
could  not  refuse  to  let  Archibald  enjoy  his  well-earned  rest. 
Though  still  under  fifty  years  of  age,  he  was  a  tired  man, 
worn  out  by  the  battle,  needing  repose.  And  why  should 
he  go  on  working?  Thanks  to  the  liberality  of  his  patron, 
he  possessed  ample  means  —  almost  one  might  say  he  was 
opulent. 

"  I  am  ready." 

"Yes,  madam." 

Then  the  day's  toil  begins. 

First  it  is  the  solemn  entry  of  the  managers,  one  after 
another  succinctly  presenting  his  report.  Then  it  is  the  turn 
of  head  clerks  and  secretaries,  who  have  gathered  and  are 
silently  waiting  outside  the  door.  After  that,  audience  is 
given  to  buyers  who  have  returned  from  or  are  about  to 
leave  for  the  marts  of  the  world. 

And  with  the  fewest  possible  words  she  issues  her  com- 
mands. She  sits  with  folded  hands,  or  paces  to  and  fro 
with  hands  clasped  behind  her  back,  or  stands  and  knits  her 
brows;  but  not  a  word,  not  a  moment  is  squandered.  She 
says,  Do  this;  but  very  rarely  explains  how  it  is  to  be  done. 
It  is  their  duty  to  know  how.  If  they  don't  know,  they  are 
inefficient.  It  is  for  her  to  give  orders :  it  is  for  subordinates 
to  carry  them  into  effect.  The  general  of  an  army  must  be 
something  more  than  a  good  regimental  officer;  the  admiral 
of  the  fleet  cannot  teach  common  sailors  the  best  way  to 
polish  the  brass  on  the  binnacle. 

With  surprising  rapidity  these  opening  labours  are  com- 

34* 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

pleted.  Well  before  noon  the  last  of  the  clerks  has  gone, 
and  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson  stands  in  an  empty  room  — 
may  take  a  breathing-pause,  or,  if  she  pleases,  fill  it  with 
tasks  of  light  weight. 

Perhaps  now  an  old  friend  is  announced.  It  is  Miss 
Woolfrey  from  China  and  Glass.  May  she  come  in?  Or 
shall  she  call  again?  No,  ask  Miss  Woolfrey  to  come  in. 

And  then  time  is  flagrantly  wasted.  Miss  Woolfrey  has 
nothing  to  say,  can  put  forward  no  valid  reason  for  bother- 
ing the  commander-in-chief.  Miss  Woolfrey  giggles  fool- 
ishly, gossips  inanely,  meanders  with  a  stream  of  senseless 
twaddle;  but  she  is  gratified  by  smiles  and  nods  and  hand- 
shakings. 

"  Well,  now,  really  —  my  dear  Miss  Woolfrey  —  you 
cheer  me  with  your  excellent  account  of  this  little  storm 
in  a  tea-cup.  .  .  .  Yes,  I'll  remember  all  you  say. 
.  .  .  How  kind  of  you  to  ask !  Yes,  my  daughter  is  very 
well." 

And  Miss  Woolfrey  goes  away  happy.  She  is  a  licensed 
offender  —  has  been  accorded  unlimited  privilege  to  waste 
time.  Incompetent  as  ever,  and  totally  unable  to  adapt  her- 
self to  modern  conditions,  she  enjoys  a  splendid  sinecure  in 
the  new  China  and  Glass.  She  has  clever  people  over  her 
to  keep  her  straight,  and  will  never  be  deprived  of  her  salary 
until  she  accepts  a  pension  in  exchange. 

Sooner  or  later  during  the  forenoon,  Mrs.  Marsden- 
Thompson  rings  her  bell  and  asks  for  Mr.  Mears. 

"  Is  Mr.  Mears  in  his  room  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,  madam." 

"  Then  give  Mr.  Mears  my  compliments,  and  say  I  shall 
be  glad  to  see  him  if  it  is  convenient  to  him  —  only  if  con- 
venient, not  if  he  is  occupied." 

It  was  always  convenient  to  Mr.  Mears.  His  convenience 
is  her  convenience.  Almost  immediately  the  door  opens,  and 

343 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

he  appears  —  and  very  grand  he  looks,  bowing  on  the 
threshold;  massive  and  strong  again;  no  shaky  dotard,  but 
a  vigorous  elderly  man,  who  might  be  mistaken  for  a  partner 
in  a  bank,  a  president  of  a  chamber  of  commerce,  a  member 
of  the  Privy  Council,  or  anybody  eminently  prosperous  and 
respectable. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Mears.     Please  be  seated." 

And  then  she  discusses  with  him  all  those  matters  of  which 
she  can  speak  to  no  one  else.  Mears  is  never  a  time-waster ; 
he,  too,  makes  few  words  suffice;  long  practice  has  given  him 
quickness  in  catching  her  thought. 

"  Mr.  Mears,  what  are  we  to  do  about  Mr.  Greig? 
Frankly,  he  is  getting  past  his  work." 

"  I  admit  it,"  says  Mears. 

"  It  will  be  better  for  all  parties  if  he  retires." 

"  He  won't  like  the  idea." 

Mr.  Greig,  the  obese  chieftain  of  Cretonnes  in  the  days 
of  old  Thompson's,  is  threatened  with  no  real  peril.  If  he 
ceases  working  to-morrow,  he  will  continue  to  receive  his 
working  wage  till  death ;  but  the  difficulty  is  to  remove  him 
from  the  sphere  of  action  without  a  wound  to  his  feelings. 

"  Will  you  talk  to  him  —  introduce  the  idea  to  him  grad- 
ually, bring  him  to  it  little  by  little,  so  that  if  possible  he 
may  come  to  think  that  it  is  his  own  idea,  and  that  he  him- 
self wants  to  retire?" 

And  Mears  promises  that  he  will  deal  thus  diplomatically 
with  the  faithful  old  servant. 

They  are  nearly  all  here  —  the  old  servants ;  from  chief- 
tains like  Greig  and  Ridgway  to  lieutenants  like  Davies  the 
night  watchman,  each  has  found  his  snug  billet.  All  who 
shivered  with  her  in  the  cold  are  welcome  to  warmth  end 
sunshine.  She  has  forgotten  no  one:  she  could  not  forget 
old  friends. 

Sometimes,  of  course,  her  bounteous  intentions  have  been 
344 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

rendered  nugatory  by  fate.  A  few  friends  are  gone  beyond 
the  reach  of  help;  others  it  has  been  impossible  to  discover. 
Even  now  Mears  has  occasionally  to  tell  her  of  someone 
raked  out  of  the  past.  For  instance,  this  morning  he  brings 
with  him  a  small  bundle  of  papers,  and  speaks  to  her  of  such 
an  one. 

They  have  only  now  found  Mr.  Fentiman,  the  lanky  and 
sententious  lord  of  Thompson's  Woollens. 

Mr.  Fentiman  had  sunk  very  low  —  never  knew  that  she 
was  Bence's,  never  saw  her  advertisements  in  agony  columns, 
never  guessed  year  after  year  that  a  munificent  protector  was 
seeking  him.  But  he  has  been  found  at  last,  in  a  wretched 
little  hosier's  at  Portsmouth  —  ill  and  weak  and  pitifully 
poor. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  he  is  our  Fentiman?  " 

"Quite,"  said  Mears;  and  he  laid  the  Fentiman  dossier 
on  the  table. 

When  Mears  had  left  her  she  fetched  an  ink-pot  from  the 
mantelpiece,  opened  a  drawer,  and  extracted  pens  and  note- 
paper.  This  morning  it  was  necessary  to  write  a  letter  in 
her  own  hand.  Secretaries  could  not  assist  her  with  the 
task,  and  time  must  no  longer  be  nicely  measured. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Fentiman,  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  of  you 
again,  and  so  sorry  to  learn  that  your  health  is  not  what 
it  should  be."  Then  she  invited  him  to  resign  his  present 
situation  and  come  to  Mallingbridge,  where  it  would  doubt- 
less be  easy  to  offer  him  an  opening  more  suited  to  his  expe- 
rience and  capacity.  If  he  would  kindly  advise  Mr.  Mears 
as  to  the  arrival  of  his  train,  Mr.  Mears  would  meet  him 
at  the  railway  station  and  conduct  him  to  apartments.  "  Be- 
fore you  plunge  into  work  again,  I  must  beg  you  to  take  a 
complete  rest;  and  as  soon  as  you  feel  strong  enough,  I 
particularly  wish  you  to  spend  a  holiday  in  Switzerland.  I 
expressed  this  wish  many  years  ago,  one  night  when  you  had 

345 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

kindly  given  me  your  company  at  dinner;  but  although  you 
tacitly  allowed  me  to  understand  that  you  would  comply  with 
it,  circumstances  prevented  its  fulfilment.  If  you  are  still 
of  the  same  mind,  it  will  afford  me  the  utmost  pleasure  to 
arrange  for  your  Swiss  tour." 

Having  written  so  far,  she  laid  down  her  pen,  picked  up 
a  telephone  receiver,  and  spoke  to  the  counting-house. 

She  was  writing  again,  and  did  not  raise  her  eyes,  when 
a  clerk  came  into  the  room. 

"  Put  them  down." 

And  the  clerk  placed  the  bank-notes  on  the  table,  and 
silently  retired. 

"  Meanwhile,"  she  was  writing,  "  I  must  ask  you  to  accept 
my  small  enclosure,  and  to  believe  me  to  be,  Yours  with 
sincere  regard,  Jane  Marsden-Thompson." 

Then  she  sealed  the  envelope,  rang  a  bell,  and  told  some- 
one to  despatch  her  letter  by  registered  post. 

Fentiman  had  mopped  up  a  lot  of  time  —  but  no  matter. 
Nevertheless,  she  moved  with  quick  footsteps  as  she  went 
from  the  room,  and  passed  along  the  lofty,  silent  corridors. 
Presently  using  a  master-key,  she  opened  a  fire-proof  door, 
and  entered  a  narrow  passage.  In  this  passage  the  silence 
was  broken  by  a  vague  murmuring  sound  —  like  the  ripple 
of  sea  waves  heard  echoing  in  a  shell. 

She  opened  another  door,  and  immediately  the  sound 
swelled  to  a  confused  roar.  Through  this  second  door  she 
had  come  out  into  a  circular  gallery  just  beneath  the  huge 
concave  of  the  dome.  Looking  downward,  she  could  see  the 
extraordinary  inverted  perspective  of  circles,  floor  below 
floor,  each  circle  apparently  smaller  than  the  one  above;  she 
could  see  long  strands  of  gauze  and  lace,  artfully  festooned 
in  void  space  from  the  gilt  rails  of  the  Curtain  department, 
like  streamers  of  white  cloud;  and  beneath  the  pretty  cloud 
she  could  see  the  rainbow  colours  of  delicate  satins  and  silks; 

346 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

and  still  lower  she  could  see  the  stir  of  multitudinous  life 
concentrating  at  this  focal  point  of  the  busy  shop. 

But  she  scarcely  looked :  she  listened.  Perched  high  in  her 
dome,  solitary,  motionless,  august,  she  was  like  the  queen- 
bee  in  the  upper  part  of  a  hive  attentively  listening  to  the 
buzz  of  industry.  And  it  seemed  that  the  sound  was  suffi- 
cient :  her  instinct  was  so  fine  —  she  knew  by  the  quality  of 
the  humming  note  that  Bence's  was  working  well. 


XXXI 

ALL  well  at  Bence's ;  and  all  well  at  home. 

It  was  pleasant  to  her,  returning  from  her  work  on  sum- 
mer evenings,  to  see  the  white  gates  and  long  wall  speed  to- 
wards her :  as  if  coming  once  again  out  of  the  land  of  dreams 
into  the  realm  of  facts,  because  she  called  them  to  her.  She 
had  wished  for  them,  and  they  were  hers.  While  her  car 
glided  from  the  gates  to  the  porch,  she  enjoyed  the  full  sight 
of  the  things  that,  seen  in  glimpses,  soothed  her  eyes  so  many 
years  ago  —  the  comfortable  eaves  and  latticed  windows,  the 
dark  masses  of  foliage  casting  restful  shadows  on  the  sun-lit 
lawns,  the  steps  and  brickwork  of  the  terraced  garden  giving 
value  and  form  to  the  gay  exuberance  of  the  summer  flowers. 

"Are  the  ladies  in?" 

When  the  footman  said  that  the  ladies'  were  out,  she  gave 
a  little  sigh.  It  was  only  a  moment's  disappointment.  By 
the  time  that  the  butler  had  come  forward  and  was  telling 
her  where  the  ladies  had  gone,  the  faint  sense  of  emptiness 
and  disillusionment  had  vanished.  Really  she  liked  the 
ladies  to  be  out  and  about  as  much  as  possible.  There  was  a 
big  motor-car  to  take  them  far  from  home,  and  there  were 
horses  and  carriages  to  take  them  on  quiet  little  journeys;  for, 
pleasant  as  home  might  be,  they  must  not  be  allowed  to  feel 
themselves  prisoners  in  it.  All  this  side  of  her  life  belonged 
to  them:  they  ruled  the  world  that  lay  outside  her  work. 

When  the  footman  told  her  that  the  ladies  were  to  be 
found  somewhere  beneath  the  eaves  or  within  the  walls  of 
the  garden,  she  sprang  out  of  the  car  as  lightly  as  a  girl 

"  I  think  Miss  Jane  is  in  the  music  room,  ma'am." 
348 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

Her  face  lit  up;  she  smiled  contentedly,  and  hurried 
through  the  porch  to  search  for  Miss  Jane. 

The  house  was  bigger  in  fact  than  it  had  been  in  the 
dream.  She  had  tacked  on  a  new  wing  at  each  end  of  it ;  and 
her  architect  had  so  cleverly  preserved  the  external  style  that 
no  one  outside  the  building  could  guess  which  was  the  old 
part  and  which  the  new.  Inside,  you  might  guess  by  the 
size  of  the  rooms.  In  one  wing  there  was  a  large  dining- 
room,  and  in  the  other  wing  there  was  Miss  Jane's  school- 
room, play-room,  or  music-room. 

This  was  an  unexpectedly  noble  hall,  containing  an  organ, 
a  minstrel  gallery,  and  a  raised  stage  for  dramatic  entertain- 
ment; here  the  young  lady  had  obtained  much  instruction 
and  amusement;  here  she  learned  to  sing  and  dance,  to  fence 
and  do  Swedish  exercises,  to  know  the  kings  of  England  and 
to  spin  tops,  to  talk  French  and  to  play  badminton. 

Her  grandmother,  bustling  to  it,  sometimes  heard  and 
always  loved  to  hear  the  music  of  organ  or  piano;  sometimes 
all  she  heard  was  a  young  voice  talking  or  laughing  —  but 
that  was  the  music  that  she  loved  best. 

"Granny  dear!" 

"Mother  dear!" 

The  double  welcome  was  her  daily  reward,  the  hand- 
some payment  that  made  her  think  the  long  day's  toil  so 
light. 

A  certain  pomp  was  maintained  in  their  manner  of  living: 
meals  were  served  with  adequate  ceremony;  butler  and  foot- 
men instead  of  parlourmaids  waited  at  table;  the  family 
wore  rich  dresses  of  an  evening ;  —  but  all  this  was  to  please 
Enid.  Everything  that  Enid  once  had  seemed  to  care  for 
must  be  provided  now  —  the  stateliness  of  liveried  men,  the 
grandeur  of  formal  dinner-parties,  the  small  or  big  extrava- 
gances that  come  with  complete  immunity  from  any  thought 
of  cost.  And  on  the  little  girl's  account,  too.  It  was  es- 

349 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

sential  that  Enid  should  be  able  to  bring  up  her  child  in  the 
midst  of  fitting,  proper,  even  fashionable  surroundings. 

Enid  took  all  these  benefits  placidly  and  naturally:  very 
much  as  of  old,  when  she  had  been  an  unmarried  girl  re- 
ceiving benefits  from  the  same  source  in  St.  Saviour's  Court. 
Indeed  she  had  insensibly  dropped  back  into  her  old  way. 
Except  for  the  one  great  permanent  change  that  sprang  from 
a  dual  cause  —  her  deepened  affection  for  her  mother  and 
her  idolizing  devotion  to  her  daughter, —  she  was  strikingly 
similar  to  the  graceful  long-nosed  Miss  Thompson  who 
went  with  a  smile  to  meet  her  fate  at  Mr.  Young's  riding- 
school. 

She  looked  scarcely  a  day  older.  She  was  neither  thinner 
nor  fatter;  her  face,  after  being  pinched  by  misfortune,  had 
exactly  filled  out  again  to  the  elegant  oval  of  careless  youth. 
The  bad  time  with  all  its  hard  lessons  was  almost  obliterated 
by  present  ease  and  comfort:  certainly  it  did  not  seem  to 
have  left  indelible  marks.  She  could  speak  of  it  —  did 
often  speak  of  it  —  without  wincing,  and  in  the  even,  un- 
emotional tone  that  she  habitually  used. 

Only  when  Jane  was  ill,  she  altogether  burst  through  the 
smooth  outer  surface  of  calm  propriety,  and  showed  that,  if 
they  could  be  reached,  there  were  some  really  strong  feelings 
underneath.  When  Jane  was  ill,  no  matter  how  slightly, 
Mrs.  Kenion  became  almost  demented. 

To  some  juvenile  ailments  the  most  jealously  guarded  child 
must  submit  sooner  or  later.  Jane  has  a  sore  throat  and  a 
cold  in  the  head;  Jane  slept  badly  last  night;  and,  oh  — 
merciful  powers, —  Jane  exhibits  red  spots  on  her  little  white 
chest. 

Dr.  Eldridge  says  —  now,  don't  be  frightened  by  a  word ; 
—  Dr.  Eldridge  says  he  believes  that,  well,  ah,  yes  —  it  is 
measles.  But  there  is  nothing  in  that  to  distress  or  alarm; 
rather  one  might  say  it  is  a  very  good  thing.  One  cannot 

350 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

reasonably  hope  that  Miss  Jane  will  escape  measles  all  her 
life;  and  one  may  be  glad  that  she  has  this  propitious  chance 
to  do  her  measling  under  practically  ideal  conditions. 

Yet,  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  wise  Eldridge  has  gone, 
here  is  Enid  with  fear-distended  eyes  and  grief-stricken  face, 
white,  shaking,  absolutely  frantic,  as  she  clings  to  her 
mother's  arm. 

"  Mother,  don't  let  her  die.     Oh,  don't  let  her  die." 

"  She  shall  not  die." 

In  these  emergencies  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson  is  solid  as 
her  clock-tower. 

"  But  Dr.  Eldridge  mayn't  be  right  —  perhaps  it's  some- 
thing a  thousand  times  worse  than  measles.  .  .  .  Oh, 
oh.  What  can  we  do?  It  may  be  some  virulent  fever  — 
and  when  she  drops  off  to  sleep,  she  may  never  wake." 

What  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson  can  do  to  allay  Enid's 
anxiety,  she  does  do,  and  at  once.  She  telephones  to  London, 
to  the  most  famous  physician  of  the  period. 

"  There,  my  darling,"  she  says  presently ;  "  now  keep 
calm.  Sir  John  is  coming  —  by  the  evening  express." 

"  Mother  dear,  how  can  I  thank  you  enough  ?  " 

"  My  own  Enid,  there's  nothing  to  thank  me  for.  It  will 
relieve  all  our  minds  to  have  the  very  highest  opinion. 
.  .  .  And  Sir  John  will  spend  the  night  here  —  that  will 
be  nice  for  you,  to  know  that  he  is  remaining  on  the  spot." 

Then  in  due  course  the  illustrious  Sir  John  arrives,  and 
confirms  the  diagnosis  of  Dr.  Eldridge.  It  is  measles  — 
and  a  very  mild  case  of  it. 

Jane  grew  up  strong  and  hearty,  none  the  worse  for  child- 
ish ailments,  and  uninjured  by  the  idolatry  of  her  two  nearest 
female  relatives.  As  Yates  said,  it  was  a  miracle  that  Jane 
didn't  get  absolutely  spoilt  by  so  much  fussing  care  and  lov- 
ing worship.  But  Yates  stoutly  declared  that  the  young  lady 
was  not  spoilt  up  to  now;  and  attributed  her  escape  from 

351 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

spoiling  to  the  fortunate  circumstance  that  she  took  after  her 
grandmother. 

Outwardly  she  was  like  her  mother,  but  perhaps  inwardly 
she  did  somewhat  resemble  her  granny.  At  fourteen  she  was 
certainly  more  enthusiastic,  vivacious,  and  expansive  than 
Enid  had  been  at  that  age.  And,  unlike  the  young  Enid,  she 
could  not  readily  take  the  impress  of  other  people's  minds 
and  manners.  Governesses  said  she  was  very  clever,  but  too 
much  disposed  to  rely  on  conclusions  reached  by  trains  of 
thought  set  in  motion  by  herself  and  running  on  lines  of  her 
own  construction.  Governesses  would  not  say  she  was  ob- 
stinate—  oh,  no,  far  from  it  —  but  perhaps  guilty  now  and 
then  of  a  certain  intellectual  arrogance  that  was  unbecoming 
in  one  so  young. 

Fourteen  —  fifteen  —  past  her  sixteenth  birthday!  Jane 
is  really  growing  up;  and  nearer  and  nearer  draws  the  time 
when  mother  and  grandmother  will  be  confronted  with  the 
awful  problem  of  finding  her  a  suitable  husband  —  a  good 
husband,  if  such  a  thing  exists  on  the  broad  surface  of  the 
earth.  It  is  appalling  to  think  about;  but  it  cannot  be 
blinked  or  evaded.  The  fiery  chain  of  life  must  have  its  new 
link  of  flame:  Jane  must  carry  the  torch,  and  give  it  safely 
to  the  small  hands  that  are  waiting  somewhere  in  immeasur- 
able darkness  to  grasp  it  and  bear  it  still  onward. 

Once  when  Enid  lightly  hinted  at  this  terrifying  matter, 
Jane  caught  the  hint  that  was  not  intended  for  her  ears, 
and  replied  very  shrewdly. 

"  It  strikes  me,  mummy,  that  most  likely  you'll  be  mar- 
ried before  I  shall." 

Mrs.  Kenion  laughed  and  flushed,  and  seemed  rather 
gratified  by  this  compliment;  but  she  promised  never  to  in- 
troduce Jane  to  a  stepfather.  No,  she  will  never  marry 
again  —  has  no  faintest  inclination  for  further  experiments 
of  that  sort.  Once  bit,  twice  shy.  She  will  act  on  the 

352 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

adage;  although,  when  she  speaks  so  blandly  of  the  bad  un- 
grateful dog  that  bit  her,  one  might  almost  suppose  that  she 
had  forgotten  nearly  all  the  pain  of  the  bite. 

"  Mother  dear,  isn't  it  wonderful?  He  is  riding  again;  " 
and  Enid  looks  up  from  the  morning  newspaper,  sips  her 
breakfast  coffee,  and  speaks  with  calm  admiration.  She  al- 
ways reads  the  sporting  news,  and  never  misses  an  entry  of 
Charlie's  name  in  minor  steeplechase  meetings. 

Here  it  is:  —  Mrs.  Charles  Kenion's  Dreadnought; 
Trainer,  private;  Jockey,  Mr.  Kenion. 

"  And  Charles  is  over  forty-five.  Really,  I  do  think  it's 
wonderful,"  says  Enid  calmly  and  admiringly.  "But  he 
shouldn't  go  on  riding  races.  She  oughtn't  to  let  him.  It 
can  only  end  "—  and  Enid  says  this  with  unruffled  calm  — 
"  in  his  breaking  his  neck." 

But  it  seems  that  Charlie's  neck  is  charmed :  that  it  can- 
not be  broken  over  the  sticks,  or  — sinister  thought !  —  that 
it  is  being  preserved  for  another  and  more  formal  method 
of  dislocation. 

Nearer  than  the  necessity  of  discovering  a  worthy  mate 
for  Jane,  there  looms  the  smaller  necessity  of  presenting  her 
at  Court,  giving  her  a  London  season,  and  so  forth.  As  to 
the  presentation,  a  very  obliging  offer  has  been  tendered  by 
the  great  lady  of  the  county  —  wife  of  that  local  potentate 
who  lives  in  the  sheltered  magnificence  behind  the  awe-in- 
spiring iron  gates.  Her  ladyship  has  voluntarily  suggested 
that  she  should  take  Miss  Kenion,  when  properly  feath- 
ered and  betrained,  into  the  effulgent  presence  of  her  sover- 
eign. 

Naturally,  since  those  tremendous  iron  gates  have  opened 
to  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson,  no  lesser  entrances  are  closed 
against  her.  Success,  if  it  is  big  enough,  condones  most 
offences;  and  the  prejudiced  objection  to  retail  trade,  under 
which  Enid  once  suffered,  has  been  generously  waived, 

353 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

What  she  used  artlessly  to  call  county  people  make  much  of 
her  and  her  daughter. 

They  are  bidden  to  the  very  best  houses;  they  may  con- 
sort on  equal  terms  with  the  highest  quality ;  there  is  no  one 
so  fine  that  he  or  she  will  resent  an  invitation  to  dinner. 

"  Oh  yes,  Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson  is  an  old  dear.  And 
her  daughter  is  quite  charming.  I  don't  know  what  to  make 
of  the  girl  —  but  of  course  you  know,  she  is  going  to  be  an 
immense  heiress." 

Mrs.  Marsden-Thompson,  presiding  at  a  banquet  to  the 
county,  perhaps  was  pleased  to  think  that  this,  too,  she  had  at 
last  been  able  to  give  her  Enid.  Really  tip-top  society  — 
social  concert-pitch,  if  compared  with  the  flat  tinkling  that 
Enid  used  to  hear  at  Colonel  Salter's. 

Gold  plate  on  the  table;  liveried  home-retainers,  with 
soberly-clad  aids  from  Bence's  refreshment  departments;  a 
white  waistcoat  or  silver  buttons  behind  every  chair;  and, 
seated  on  the  chairs,  a  most  select  and  notable  company  of 
guests,  gracious  smiling  ladies  and  grandiosely  urbane  lords; 
pink  and  white  faces  of  candid  young  girls  and  sun-burnt 
faces  of  gallant  young  soldiers;  shimmer  of  pearls,  glitter  of 
diamonds,  flash  of  bright  eyes,  and  a  polite  murmur  of  well- 
bred  voices  —  surely  this  is  all  that  Enid  could  possibly 
desire. 

But  it  was  not  the  society  that  the  hostess  really  cared 
about.  The  dinner-parties  that  she  enjoyed  were  far  differ- 
ent from  this.  She  gave  this  sort  of  feast  to  please  Enid; 
but  at  certain  seasons  —  at  Christmas  especially  —  she  gave 
a  feast  to  please  herself. 

Then  the  old  friends  came.  The  two  motor-cars  and  the 
large  landau  went  to  fetch  some  of  the  guests.  Few  of  them 
were  carriage-folk.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Archibald  Bence  had 
their  own  brougham  of  course;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Prentice  used 
one  of  Young's  flies;  but  most  of  the  others  were  very  glad 

354 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

to  accept  a  lift  out  and  home.  By  special  request  they  all 
came  early,  and  in  morning-dress. 

"We  dine  at  seven,"  wrote  the  hostess  in  her  invitations; 
"  but  please  come  early,  so  that  we  can  have  a  chat  before 
dinner.  And  as  it  is  to  be  just  a  friendly  unceremonious 
gathering,  do  you  mind  wearing  morning  dress  ?  " 

Did  they  mind?  What  a  thoughtless  question,  when  she 
might  have  known  that  some  of  them  had  nothing  but  morn- 
ing dress!  Mr.  Mears,  in  spite  of  his  rise  in  the  world, 
rigidly  adhered  to  the  frock  coat,  as  the  garment  most  suitable 
to  his  years  and  his  figure.  Cousin  Thompson  —  the  ex- 
grocer  of  Haggart's  Cross  —  considered  swallow-tails  and 
white  chokers  to  be  fanciful  nonsense:  he  would  not  make  a 
merry-andrew  of  himself  to  please  anybody.  Neither  of  the 
two  Miss  Prices  had  ever  possessed  a  low-cut  bodice  —  old 
Mrs.  Price  would  probably  have  whipped  her  for  her  im- 
modesty if  she  had  ever  been  caught  in  one. 

Then  buttoned  coats  and  no  spreading  shirt  fronts,  high- 
necked  blouses  and  no  bare  shoulders;  but  in  other  respects 
full  pomp  for  this  humbler  banquet:  home-servants  and 
Bence-servants ;  the  electric  light  blazing  on  the  splendid 
epergnes,  the  exquisite  Bohemian  glass,  and  the  piled  fruit  in 
the  Wedgewood  china;  the  long  table  stretched  to  its  last 
leaf;  more  than  thirty  people  eating,  drinking,  talking, 
laughing,  shining  with  satisfaction  —  and  Mrs.  Marsden- 
Thompson  at  the  head  of  the  sumptuous  board,  shedding 
quick  glances,  kind  smiles,  friendly  nods,  making  the  wine 
taste  better  and  the  lamps  glow  brighter,  gladdening  and 
cheering  every  man  and  woman  there. 

"  Cousin  Jenny!  "  It  is  our  farmer  cousin  shouting  from 
the  end  of  the  table.  "  You're  so  far  off  that  I  shall  have 
to  whistle  to  you.  You  haven't  forgotten  my  whistle  ?  " 

"  No,  that  I  haven't,  cousin  Gordon." 

And  radiant  cousin  Gordon  turns  to  tell  Miss  Jane  the 
355 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

story  of  the  Welshman,  the  Irishman,  and  the  Scotsman  who 
met  on  London  Bridge;  and  Miss  Jane  is  good  enough  to  be 
amused. 

"  Lord,  how  often  I've  told  that  story  to  your  grand- 
mother! Til  tell  it  her  again  when  we  get  back  into  the 
music-room.  'Tis  a  favourite  of  hers." 

Jane  and  Enid  are  both  very  sweet  on  these  occasions, 
loyally  assisting  the  hostess,  and  winning  the  hearts  of  the 
humblest  guests.  There  is  perhaps  a  just  perceptible  effort 
in  Enid's  pretty  manner;  but  with  Jane  it  is  all  entirely 
natural. 

"  Mr.  Prentice,"  says  Jane  impudently,  "  you  mayn't 
know  it,  but  you  are  going  to  sing  us  a  comic  song  after 
dinner." 

Mr.  Prentice  is  delighted  yet  coy. 

"  No,  no  —  certainly  not." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  will.     Won't  he,  Mrs.  Prentice  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  he  will,  if  you  wish  it,  Miss  Jane." 

Mr.  Archibald  Bence,  looking  rather  wizened  and  wan,  is 
just  off  to  the  South  of  France  for  the  remainder  of  the 
winter;  and  Mr.  Fentiman,  talking  across  the  table,  urges 
him  to  see  the  falls  of  the  Rhine  on  his  return  journey. 

"  When  I  was  touring  in  Switzerland  last  autumn,"  says 
Fentiman  sententiously,  "  I  gave  one  whole  day  to  Schaff- 
hausen,  and  it  amply  repaid  me  for  the  time  and  trouble." 

Wherever  the  hostess  turns  her  kind  eyes,  she  can  see 
someone  looking  at  her  gratefully  and  affectionately.  There 
is  our  grumbling  cousin  who  once  was  a  poor  little  grocer. 
She  has  done  so  much  for  him  that  he  has  almost  entirely 
ceased  to  grumble.  There  is  noisy,  would-be-facetious  cousin 
Gordon,  once  a  little  struggling  tenant,  now  a  landlord  suc- 
cessfully farming  his  own  land.  There  is  corpulent  Greig,  on 
the  retired  list,  but  jovial  and  contented,  with  his  pride  un- 
wounded,  revelling  in  high-paid  tranquillity.  There  are  the 

356 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

cackling,  stupid  Miss  Prices  and  their  greedy  old  mother. 
They  have  looked  at  workhouse  doors  and  shivered  apprehen- 
sively ;  but  now  they  chide  the  maid  when  she  fails  to  make  up 
the  drawing-room  fire,  and  bully  the  butcher  if  he  sends  them 
a  scraggy  joint  for  Sunday.  There  is  faithful  Mears  in  his 
newest  frock-coat,  close  beside  her,  as  of  right,  very  close  to 
her  heart.  And  there,  behind  her  chair,  is  faithful  Yates  — 
in  rustling  black  silk,  with  kerchief  of  real  point  lace.  She 
does  not  of  course  appear  when  the  county  dines  with  us; 
but  to-night  Yates  stands  an  honorary  major-domo  at  the 
Christmas  dinner  —  because  she  exactly  understands  the 
spirit  of  the  feast,  and  knows  how  her  mistress  wishes  things 
to  be  done. 

"  And  now,"  says  Mr.  Prentice,  "  I'm  not  going  to  break 
the  rule.  No  speeches.  But  just  one  toast.  .  .  .  Our 
hostess!" 

The  faces  of  the  guests  all  turn  towards  her;  and  the 
lamp-light,  flashing  here  and  there,  shows  her  gleams  of 
gold.  The  golden  shower  that  falls  so  freely  has  left  some 
drops  on  each  of  them.  Her  small  gifts  are  visible  —  the 
rings  on  their  fingers,  the  brooches  at  their  necks;  but  the 
lamp-light  cannot  reach  her  greater  gifts  —  the  soft  beds, 
the  warm  fires,  the  money  in  their  banks,  the  comfort  in  their 
breasts. 


XXXII 

OF  course  she  had  sent  her  husband  money.  Only  Mears 
knew  how  much.  Mears  acted  as  intermediary,  conducted 
the  correspondence;  and  in  despatching  the  doles,  whether 
much  or  little,  he  rarely  failed  to  reiterate  the  proviso  that 
the  recipient  was  not  to  set  foot  in  England.  That  was  the 
irrepealable  condition  under  which  aid  from  time  to  time 
was  granted. 

But  of  late  it  had  become  plain  that  no  attempt  would  be 
made  to  set  the  prohibition  at  defiance :  Mr.  Marsden  would 
never  revisit  his  native  land.  During  the  last  year  his  wife 
had  written  to  him  twice  or  thrice,  supplementing  the  com- 
munications of  Mears  with  extra  bounties  and  some  hopeful, 
cheering  words.  Mr.  Marsden  was  begged  to  employ  these 
additional  drafts  in  defraying  the  expenses  of  illness,  to  take 
care  of  himself,  and  to  fight  against  desponding  thoughts. 

Now,  one  summer  morning,  when  she  entered  her  room 
at  Bence's,  Mr.  Mears  stood  by  a  window  waiting  for  her 
arrival. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Mears ; "  and  she  looked  at  his 
solemn  face.  "  Anything  out  of  the  way?  " 

"  Yes.     Some  news  from  California." 

"  Ah !  "  And  she  pointed  to  the  letter  in  his  hand.  "  Is 
ft  the  news  that  we  had  reason  to  expect?  " 

"Yes.  .  .  .  It's  all  over;"  and  Mr.  Mears  placed 
a  chair  for  her,  near  the  newspaper  table. 

She  sat  down,  took  the  letter,  spread  it  open  on  the  table  ; 
and,  shading  her  eyes  with  a  hand,  began  to  read  it. 

"  Mr.  Mears !  "  She  spoke  without  looking  up.  "  I 
358 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

shall  do  no  work  to-day.     Tell  them  all  that  I  cannot  see 
them." 

In  the  lofty  corridor  the  doors  of  the  managers'  rooms 
were  opening;  the  chieftains  were  bringing  their  reports; 
secretaries  and  clerks  were  silently  assembling. 

Mr.  Mears  left  the  room,  whisperingly  dismissed  every- 
body; and  with  closed  lips  and  noiseless  footsteps,  the  little 
crowd  dispersed. 

When  he  returned  to  the  room  she  spoke  to  him  again, 
still  without  raising  her  eyes. 

"  The  car  has  gone  home,  of  course.  Please  telephone  to 
the  house,  and  tell  them  to  send  it  back  for  me  at  once." 

He  transmitted  her  order,  and  then  went  to  a  window 
and  looked  down  into  the  court-yard. 

"Mr.  Mears!" 

She  had  finished  the  letter,  and  was  carefully  folding  it. 
"There.  You  had  better  keep  it  —  with  the  other  papers. 
.  .  .  Sit  down,  please.  Stay  with  me  till  the  car  comes." 

Mr.  Mears  sat  down,  put  the  folded  letter  in  his  pocket, 
but  did  not  speak.  He  noticed  that  her  eyes  were  free  from 
moisture,  and  her  quiet  voice  betrayed  no  emotion  of  any 
sort. 

"  Ah,  well ; "  and  she  gave  a  little  sigh.  "  He  wanted 
for  nothing.  His  friend  says  so  explicitly.  .  .  .  Mr. 
Mears,  she  cannot  have  been  a  bad  woman  —  according  to  her 
lights.  You  see,  she  has  stuck  to  him  faithfully." 

Then,  after  a  long  pause,  she  spoke  very  kindly  of  the  dead 
man;  and  Mears  noticed  the  pitying  tenderness  that  had 
come  into  her  voice.  But  it  could  not  have  been  called  emo- 
tion: it  was  a  benign,  comprehensive  pity,  a  ready  sympathy 
for  weakness  and  misfortune,  and  no  deep  disturbance  of 
personal  feeling.  Mears  had  heard  her  talk  in  just  such  a 
tone  when  she  had  been  told  about  the  sad  end  of  a  total 
stranger. 

359 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  Poor  fellow !  A  wasted  life,  Mr.  Mears !  .  .  . 
And  he  had  many  good  points.  He  was  naturally  a  worker. 
Considerable  capacity  —  he  seemed  to  promise  great  things 
in  the  beginning.  .  .  .  You  know,  you  thought  well  of 
him  at  first." 

"  At  first,"  said  Mears.  "  I  admit  it.  He  was  a  good 
salesman." 

"  He  was  a  grand  salesman,  Mr.  Mears.  ...  I  have 
never  met  a  better  one." 

Enid  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  white  gates,  when  the  car 
brought  her  home. 

"Mother  dear,  is  anything  wrong?     Are  you  ill?" 

The  car  had  stopped;  and  Enid,  clambering  on  the  step, 
showed  a  white,  scared  face. 

"  No,  my  dear.  I  am  quite  all  right.  I'll  get  out  here, 
and  stroll  in  the  garden  with  you.  .  .  .  My  sweet  Enid, 
did  the  message  frighten  you?  " 

"  Yes,  dreadfully." 

"  It  was  inconsiderate  of  me  not  to  say  I  wasn't  ill. 
...  I  am  taking  the  day  off.  That  is  all." 

"  But  what  has  happened  ?  Something  has  upset  you.  I 
can  see  it  in  your  face." 

Then,  as  they  walked  slowly  to  and  fro  along  a  terrace 
between  bright  and  perfumed  flowers,  Mrs.  Marsden-Thomp- 
son  quietly  told  her  daughter  the  news. 

"  I  am  a  widow,  Enid  dear.  .  .  .  No,  it  did  not  upset 
me.  Mr.  Mears  and  I  were  both  prepared  to  hear  it. 
.  .  .  But  of  course  it  takes  one  back  into  the  past;  it 
sets  one  thinking  —  and  I  felt  at  once  that  I  ought  not  to 
attend  to  ordinary  business,  that  it  would  be  only  proper 
to  take  the  day  off.  .  .  . 

"And  I  think,  Enid,  that  henceforth  I  shall  call  myself 
Mrs.  Thompson  —  plain  Mrs.  Thompson,  dropping  the 
other  name  altogether."  .  .  .  She  had  paused  on  the 

360 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

path,  to  pick  a  sprig  of  verbena;  and  she  gently  crushed  a 
thin  leaf,  and  inhaled  its  perfume.  "  Yes,  dear.  I  always 
liked  the  old  name  best.  But  I  felt  that  while  he  was  living, 
it  might  seem  unkind,  and  in  bad  taste,  if  I  altogether  re- 
fused to  bear  his  name.  Now,  however,  it  cannot  matter ;  " 
and  she  opened  her  hand  and  let  the  crushed  leaf  fall.  "  He 
has  gone.  And  he  is  quite  forgotten.  There  is  nobody  who 
can  think  it  unkind  if  his  name  dies,  too." 


XXXIII 

THE  pleasant  years  were  slipping  away,  and  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son was  just  as  busy  as  she  had  ever  been.  She  had  long  ago 
ceased  to  speak  of  retiring,  and  now  she  did  not  even  think 
of  it.  The  success  of  Bence's  had  continued  to  swell  larger 
and  larger;  its  trade  grew  steadily  and  surely;  its  financial 
position  was  so  strong  that  nothing  could  shake  it. 

Prentice  and  Archibald  Bence  often  advised  the  proprie- 
tress to  turn  herself  into  a  company,  and  she  was  more  or 
less  disposed  to  adopt  their  suggestion.  Some  day  or  other 
she  might  do  it.  But  it  would  be  a  big  job  —  the  promo- 
tion of  a  company  on  the  grandest  scale,  with  enormous 
capital  involved,  wants  careful  consideration.  Perhaps  she 
was  a  little  inclined  to  shrink  the  preliminary  labours  of  the 
scheme  —  and  in  any  event  the  flotation  could  not  bring  her 
more  leisure,  because  she  would  certainly  be  obliged  to  re- 
main at  Bence's  as  managing  director. 

In  these  years  Jane  had  made  her  bow  at  the  Court  of  St. 
James's,  and  had  experienced  the  excitement  of  a  London 
season;  but  as  yet  her  guardians  had  found  her  no  suitable 
sweetheart.  They  were  difficult  to  please;  and  she  herself 
appeared  to  be  in  no  hurry.  However,  Jane  at  twenty-two 
was  so  good-looking,  so  vivaciously  amiable,  so  altogether 
charming,  that  Mrs.  Thompson  and  Mrs.  Kenion  knew  well 
that  they  would  not  be  able  to  put  off  the  heavy  day  much 
longer.  The  right  man,  though  still  unseen,  must  have 
drawn  very  near  by  now. 

On  Thursday  afternoons,  weather  permitting,  Mrs. 
Thompson  liked  to  drive  in  the  carriage;  and  it  was  always 

363 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

an  especial  treat  when  the  social  engagements  of  her  ladies 
allowed  them  to  accompany  her.  As  the  big  bay  horses 
trotted  along  the  smooth  roads  she  leaned  back  in  her  seat 
with  luxurious  contentment  and  beamed  at  Jane,  at  Enid,  at 
all  the  world. 

"  Now  is  not  this  much  nicer  —  the  air,  the  quiet  enjoy- 
ment, the  gentle  motion  —  than  if  we  were  being  whirled 
past  everything  in  a  motor-car  ?  " 

"  Yes,  granny,  it  is  very  nice." 

"  I  fear  that  you  would  have  preferred  the  car,  Enid  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  mother  dear.  I  think  horses  are  delightful  when 
you  don't  want  to  go  far,  and  time  is  no  object." 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson.  "Time  is  no 
object.  The  horses  help  me  to  remember  that;  and  I  like 
to  remember  it  —  because  it  gives  one  the  holiday  feel- 
ing." 

"  Poor  granny !  "  Jane  had  taken  one  of  grandmamma's 
hands,  and  was  squeezing  it  affectionately.  "  And  it's  only 
a  half-holiday.  You  don't  get  enough  of  the  holiday  feel- 
ing. .  .  .  Oh,  where's  my  Kodak?  I  must  snap  those 
children." 

The  carriage  was  stopped ;  Jane  sprang  out,  and  ran  back 
to  photograph  three  little  girls  in  a  cottage  garden. 

"  There,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson  triumphantly.  "  If  we 
had  been  in  the  car,  she  wouldn't  have  seen  them.  We 
should  have  passed  too  quickly." 

Jane  stopped  the  carriage  again,  when  they  came  to  a 
point  where  the  road  turns  abruptly  to  cross  a  high  bridge 
above  the  railway. 

"  Here  we  are,  granny.     Here's  your  favourite  view." 

Mrs.  Thompson  had  always  been  fond  of  this  view  of 
Mallingbridge ;  and  though  it  was  much  too  large  for  a 
snapshot  photograph,  Jane  liked  it,  too. 

Looking  down  from  the  bridge  you  have  Mallingbridge, 
24  363 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

stretched  as  a  map,  at  your  feet.  Once  the  clustered  roofs 
made  a  large  spot  four  miles  away  in  the  middle  of  the  plain. 
Now  the  roofs  had  encroached  until  very  little  plain  was 
left.  The  town  and  its  suburbs  had  rolled  out  in  all  direc- 
tions, burying  green  meadows  beneath  warehouses  and  fac- 
tories, stifling  the  copses  with  red-brick  villas,  planting  the 
flowery  slopes  with  tram-lines  and  iron  standards.  To-day 
the  light  was  bad;  the  sun  only  here  and  there  could  pierce 
the  drab  clouds  of  smoke  that  rose  from  countless  chimneys, 
and  drifted  and  hung  over  the  central  part  of  the  town;  but 
the  three  big  towers  showed  plainly  enough  —  the  square 
tower  of  St.  Saviour's,  the  steeple  of  Holy  Trinity,  and  the 
pinnacled  monument  of  Bence's  clock.  And  very  plainly, 
with  the  sunshine  suddenly  striking  it,  one  saw  the  huge 
dome  of  Bence. 

A  changed  view,  a  widely  extended  map,  since  Mrs. 
Thompson  first  looked  at  it.  But  there  at  her  feet  lay  the 
world  that  she  had  conquered  and  held. 

Perhaps,  while  the  horses  stood  champing  their  bits  and 
the  coachman  and  footman  stifled  yawns  of  ennui,  Mrs. 
Thompson  extracted  from  the  wide  view  a  warm  and  com- 
fortable sensation  of  happiness  and  pride.  She  was  quite 
happy,  with  every  fierce  passion  burnt  out,  with  the  disturb- 
ing energy  of  the  emotions  nearly  all  gone ;  but  with  the  full 
and  satisfying  work  still  left  to  her,  and  the  zest  for  the 
work  growing  always  keener,  keeping  her  young  of  spirit, 
defying  the  years.  And  she  was  proud  —  very  proud  in 
her  undiminished  power  of  protecting  those  she  loved.  She 
had  never  failed  to  protect.  Her  mother, —  her  dull  old 
husband, —  her  daughter, —  her  daughter's  daughter :  all  who 
had  touched  the  orbit  of  her  strength  with  love  had  found 
security.  And  she  had  been  able  to  break  as  well  as  to  make. 
All  who  had  served  her  were  guarded  and  safe:  all  who  had 
opposed  her  were  crushed  and  done  for. 

364 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"Shall  I  drive  on,  ma'am?" 

"  Yes,  drive  on." 

The  coachman  and  footman  in  their  black  liveries  and 
white  gloves  had  a  grand  air;  the  bay  horses  were  large 
highly-bred  beasts;  the  carriage  was  one  of  those  four-seated 
victorias  which  are  much  affected  by  royal  persons  —  the 
whole  equipage  offered  a  majestic  appearance.  If  the  route 
of  the  excursion  led  them  by  the  avenues  of  new  villas  and 
through  some  of  the  crowded  streets  of  the  town,  Mrs. 
Thompson's  weekly  outing  became  exactly  like  a  queen's  pro- 
cession. 

Hats  off  on  either  side;  continuous  bowing  to  right  and 
left;  men  and  women  staring  from  open  doors,  running  to 
upper  windows,  bumping  into  one  another  on  the  pave- 
ment. 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  Mrs.  Thompson." 

"Oh!" 

"  What  is  it  ?     I  couldn't  see.     Was  it  the  fire-engine  ?  " 

"  No.  Mrs.  Thompson  —  taking  her  Thursday  drive. 
Just  gone  round  the  corner  to  Bridge  Street." 

In  Bridge  Street,  people  on  the  top  of  trams  stood  up  to 
stare  at  her;  and  if  it  chanced  that  there  rode  on  the  car 
some  stranger  to  Mallingbridge,  the  conductor  and  all  the 
passengers  volubly  instructed  him. 

"  Who  did  you  say  it  was?  " 

"  Mrs.  Thompson !  .  .  .  She's  Eence's,  she  is  ... 
Mrs.  Thompson,  don't  I  tell  you?  But  Bence's  is  all  hers. 
.  .  .  She  built  that  tower  what  you're  looking  at  now. 
.  .  .  She  gave  the  money  to  build  the  new  hospital  that 
we're  coming  to  presently.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Thompson! 
They  say  she's  rich  enough  to  buy  the  blooming  town." 

When  she  got  home  she  thanked  her  companions  for  giving 
her  the  treat. 

365 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

"  It  is  sweet  of  you  both  —  and  I  hope  you  haven't  been 
bored.     It  has  been  the  greatest  treat  for  me." 


Another  of  her  great  treats  —  enjoyed  more  rarely  than 
the  carriage  drive  —  was  on  a  Sunday  night,  when  she  and 
her  granddaughter  went  in  to  Mallingbridge  for  the  evening 
service  at  St.  Saviour's  Church. 

"  We  won't  ask  your  mother  to  come,  because  I  fancy 
she  is  a  little  tired.  But  if  you  feel  up  to  it?  " 

"Rather"  said  Jane. 

"  Really  and  truly,  you  won't  mind?  " 

"  I  shall  love  it,  granny." 

Then,  time  being  an  object,  the  small  car  was  ordered, 
and  the  chauffeur  jumped  gleefully  to  obey  the  sabbath-in- 
fringing order.  He  knew  that  he  would  receive  a  thump- 
ing tip  as  guerdon  for  his  extra  pains. 

She  sat  in  the  old  pew,  with  Jane  by  her  side.  She  had 
retained  the  places,  although  she  could  so  infrequently  use 
them;  and  the  card  in  the  metal  frame  once  again  read, 
"  Mrs.  Thompson,  two  seats." 

The  dim  light  fell  softly  on  her  white  hair  and  pale  face, 
on  her  ermine  fur  and  the  purple  velvet  of  her  mantle; 
and  the  congregation,  sparse  rows  of  vague,  meaningless 
figures,  sent  shadowy  glances  at  her  back  and  at  her  sides. 
There  was  no  one  here  now  who  had  seen  her  as  a  bride, 
with  her  pretty  hair  and  fresh,  vividly  coloured  complexion  ; 
but  all  knew  who  she  was,  and  everybody  seemed  to  be 
stirred  by  her  dignified  presence.  At  her  entrance  a  whisper 
and  a  movement  had  run  along  the  pews.  "  Look!  Mrs. 
Thompson !  " 

A  young  curate  conducted  the  service  with  a  kind  of 
languid  hurry.  The  old  broad  church  vicar  was  dead,  and 
a  low  church  vicar  had  obtained  the  living.  So  there  was 

366 


MRS.  THOMPSON 

less  singing  and  chanting  than  of  past  days;  and  the  choir 
boys,  standing  or  sitting  in  the  brightly  illuminated  chancel, 
had  not  so  much  work  to  do.  It  was  all  one  to  Mrs. 
Thompson  —  the  old  way  or  the  new  way.  The  sensible 
view,  the  business  view  of  the  matter  remained  unaltered. 
Given  a  consecrated  house  of  prayer,  anyone  who  isn't  a 
faddist  ought  to  be  able  to  pray  in  it. 

The  congregation  had  stood  up,  to  recite  the  evening 
psalms  in  alternate  verses  with  the  curate ;  and  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son, standing  very  erect,  looked  from  the  darkness  towards 
the  light. 

.  .  .  "  The  Lord  is  with  them  that  uphold  my  soul ;  " 
and  then  the  congregation  recited  their  verse. 

Jane  glanced  at  granny's  face  —  so  fine,  so  strong,  so 
brave;  and  listened  to  her  firm,  resolute  voice. 

"  He  shall  reward  evil  until  mine  enemies :  destroy  thou 
them  in  thy  truth." 

While  the  curate  read  the  next  verse,  Jane  was  still  watch- 
ing her  granny's  face. 

"  For,"  answered  Mrs.  Thompson,  "  he  hath  delivered 
me  out  of  all  my  trouble;  and  mine  eye  hath  seen  his  desire 
upon  mine  enemies." 

"  Glory  be  to  the  Father,"  said  the  curate,  in  a  perfunc- 
tory tone,  "  and  to  the  Son :  and  to  the  Holy  Ghost ;  " 

"As  it  was  in  the  beginning,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson, 
firmly  and  fervently,  "  is  now,  and  ever  shall  be :  world 
without  end.  Amen." 


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